


Are You Good?

by campholmes



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: ...eventually, F/F, Smut, Spanking, Sugar Mama AU, katya is 45 and trixie is 26, katya is your moms hot best friend that drinks with you at family functions au, watersports ;)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-11-10 12:26:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 45,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11126970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/campholmes/pseuds/campholmes
Summary: “You want me to read your palm?” Katya is whispering, too. It’s gravely. Trixie is losing her mind. Katya’s fingers are sliding across the hot, damp skin of Trixie’s palm, her callouses are tickling her and then she’s tracing a blue vein under the orange lamplight down Trixie’s wrist, just a little ways up her inner arm. Trixie shivers and her fingers twitch.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey.....
> 
> this fic was borne out of complete insanity about Older Woman Katya on the parts of [artificiallale](http://archiveofourown.org/users/artificiallale/works), [UNHhhh](http://archiveofourown.org/users/UNHhhh/works), and [matilda_queen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/matilda_queen/works). Love you allll <3
> 
> Special thanks to Katya Zamolodchikova, the lady herself, who posted [these](https://katyascuteface.tumblr.com/post/161520920404/katyazamo-judith-i-cant-talk-right-now-im) [selfies](https://katyascuteface.tumblr.com/post/161520835979/hawt) yesterday and inspired this entire fic! What an angel. 
> 
> this is super unedited, and yes, there will be more chapters in the future. All smut, let me know if you enjoy!!!!! i'm still on tumblr @ fleursverts <3

Trixie feels like a petulant child. It seems like every single time she’s back home she immediately regresses to a fifteen-year-old high schooler, begging her mom to let her eat ice cream or hang out with her friends or to take her shopping.

She loves her mom, obviously, she’s fun and kind and she throws massive parties every weekend in her new, looming mansion. She’s remarried rich, and Trixie is honestly pretty happy for her. Her mom has never done anything wrong in her life, and Trixie wants the world for her. Her new husband is rarely home, Trixie’s never met him, but he seems nice enough. She doesn’t really care, so long as her mom is happy and healthy and surrounds herself with her new fun rich friends.

But being back living with her is annoying. 

The house is huge, the rooms are gaping, her mom’s tiny corgi puppy is her only company half the time. 

Trixie’s moved back from college, with her psychology masters in hand and her pink fairy lights in suitcase to put up in the empty suite she’s been assigned. She’s planning to live here for six months at most, and she’s currently working to try to narrow that the fuck down, since everyday is torture. 

All of her new stepfather’s furniture is some kind of faux-victorian bullshit, it’s sterile and unwelcoming and Trixie’s taken painstaking lengths to make her rooms more homey. Upstate New York is like a desolate wasteland, in the affluent area where Michael, and now her mom, live. Trixie minds it way more than she should, she misses their old creaky two-floor farmhouse, she misses running up and down the stairs on bare feet and pulling her mom outside to the back field to run in the grass with her.

Trixie’s mom had her when she was only twenty. And she’s always been a little too cool for her own good, she’s had endless strings of boyfriends and husbands and hookups in and out of the house, while somehow simultaneously caring for Trixie an immense amount. She’s always been more of a friend than a mother, though, and Trixie grew up independent. And now it’s painful to have to go back to feeling like she needs her mom’s approval for everything she does.

It’s Saturday, and Trixie is honestly excited to attend one of her mom’s parties that she chatters on about with Trixie with over the phone. They’re apparently pretty wild, and fun, and Trixie is ready for a change of scenery, ready for the house to grow warm with guests and low lighting, with food and alcohol.

It’s already 2pm, Trixie’s been lying in bed all day bemoaning her sorry existence, texting Kim asking about her makeup job, reading over her resumé, and just staring at the baby pink ceiling, waiting for her life to start.

She needs to find a job, and she has some in’s and contacts, but she’s also only _just_ finished school and if her mom is so rich now why _shouldn’t_ she just stay here for a little while? She feels stuck in limbo, like she’ll be trapped here forever, like she’ll never decide what to do. She needs to snap out of it, forget it all for just this one night, let loose and have fun.

-

Trixie’s mom is running around the kitchen and dining room, Cat following her on all four paws frantically, little corgi butt waggling at top speed. Trixie is eating strawberries and a sandwich for lunch, it’s hot summer and she can barely force herself to eat when it’s so sticky once she exits the back door to the pool outside.

Her mom is losing it, a little, over the party. She’s always been a bit of a control freak, and now that Trixie’s twenty-six she can see the insanity in her eyes as she makes calls for catering and booze, posts last-minute reminders on her facebook and twitter. Her mom is a regular fucking hostess, and the main floor is immaculate. There are already mismatched floral tablecloths on all the tables, silver platters stacked high on the kitchen counters, it’ll all look fabulous and homey in low-lit, wood-paneled rooms. 

Trixie will be glad for the crowd.

Her mom has a gaggle of new rich female friends, and she goes everywhere with them, talks on and on about them over the phone, and Trixie is glad. Her mom has never really had too many friends in the past and Trixie always knew it was her fault, if her mom didn’t have to focus on both Trixie and her boyfriends then she would have time to focus on having fun for herself, too. 

But now her mom is forty-seven, she’s still young, and she doesn’t have Trixie to worry about. Which is good, because she’s having a damn good time.

“Okay, Trix, could you maybe help me pick out a dress, and then, um, then we can call the florist, okay, oh! And Pearl and Katya are coming over to help set up in about three hours, okay?” 

Trixie nods her assent, begins to follow her mom up the dark wood staircase.

-

Trixie retreats to her room to figure out an outfit before her mother’s friends can get there. She doesn’t really want to have to confront any of them before she’s had at least two glasses of wine, she loves rich older women and she doesn’t know if she could speak to any of them when she’s feeling so off-balance. Wine will give her the push she needs to chat with them. And flirt with them, but she only needs to acknowledge that in the very back of her mind.

Until the party she’ll just hide in her rooms, waiting for voices to start filling up below her feet.

She decides on a pink v-cut dress, her tits are huge and perky and they fill it out perfectly. It’s not like she’s planning to hook up with anyone at her mother’s party, but she wants the ego boost of looking hot anyways. 

She showers and takes her sweet time getting ready. Brushing through her hair, letting it air-dry so her curls lay nicely, curling her lashes and putting on makeup. And once it sounds like there’s a good enough crowd downstairs, Trixie goes to join them.

-

Trixie is drunk.

Not super drunk, just. Drunk. It’s dim in the long hallway from the living room, with the lights on each side settled onto the walls reflecting off the shiny white wallpaper. That Trixie doesn’t really know for sure is even shiny. Whatever. 

She stops in the kitchen, grips the doorway in her right hand. The wall is cool on her fingers and the A/C is on but she’s still a little overheated. The kitchen is mostly empty but for some women sitting laughing quietly at the table and a woman digging in the fridge. 

Trixie props her ass up against the island next to the fridge, she’ll wait her turn to get a beer after the woman is done. Maybe she’ll just sneak a whole bottle of wine, too, back to her room to drink alone tomorrow night. Her mom won’t even notice that it’s gone. 

The woman pulls her entire torso out of the fridge with a sigh. She straightens and now she’s standing next to Trixie and Trixie doesn’t recognize her at all, but damn. 

Her cheekbones are sharp and she’s sucking her teeth, tutting, so they’re _especially_ sharp, she’s wearing dark red lipstick with brown lip liner and her hair is a little tangled but it’s wavy, blonde streaked with gray down to her round shoulders. She does a double take at Trixie’s hip and ass digging into the marble, and Trixie follows her pale eyes up to her own face. They stop for a moment at her breasts in the deep v of Trixie’s pink dress. Trixie knew that it would come in handy.

“Hey,” the woman’s plump lips spread into a grin as she grips fingers with short plain nails to swing the refrigerator closed. A glass of red wine is almost clenched in her other hand. The veins and tendons on the back of her hands twist up her wrists to the ends of her sleeves. She maneuvers to rest her own hip against the counter, less than a foot from Trixie’s. She smells like wine. She’s smokin hot.

Trixie is wet.

The woman is still smiling at her, plinking her wine glass down on the island, but it’s curled down into a delighted smirk. Trixie’s vision is swirling a little but she’s focusing in on the woman’s lips, the black eyeshadow pooling into her crow’s feet and her arching brows. 

“Hi,” Trixie remembers to respond. She takes a step forward and the woman’s smirk grows, but then Trixie’s head is in the fridge and her ass is bumping against the woman’s warm hip in her black dress, she can hear the fabric of her own dress slide across it. Trixie fishes a bottle of beer from the back of the cold white shelves.

She turns again and she’s all in her space, she can see a tiny bead of sweat running down the woman’s cheek and Trixie wants to lick it off, taste her foundation beneath it, pull on the thick gray hairs at her temples, where Trixie can see her veins disappear.

Trixie leans in again, and the woman leans with her, she can feel her breath on her nose. Trixie pulls back with the bottle opener, skids it across the cool marble so that it clinks where she drops it, next to the bottle. She narrowly misses the glass of wine with it. She doesn’t have full control of her limbs.

She’s fiddling with the bottle opener and the sweaty-cold beer, and then dry, calloused hands are wrapped around hers, they’re hot almost burning and Trixie is blushing, her cheeks are just fucking sizzling red as the woman pulls Trixie’s fingers almost one-by-one from around the neck of the bottle, gripping the bottle opener around her hand.

The woman huffs a laugh through her nose as she grips the bottle with her left hand, on the table, and her fingers are still around Trixie’s on the opener as she slides it around the cap, jerks her arm so that it pops off, skidding across the island to fall into the sink. Trixie is still blushing. The woman won’t let go of her hand. She’s running her thumb between Trixie’s thumb and pointer finger against the cool metal. Trixie shivers involuntarily, and the woman’s eyes are digging into her skull, sparkling with her white white white teeth at the same time.

And then her fingers are gone and she’s sliding the bottle across the now only six inches of white marble between their hips.

Trixie takes the bottle in hand and lets the sweet sour drip down her dry throat. It’s gotten so much hotter in the kitchen and the mumbling of the other women has quieted down. Trixie can feel the unknown woman’s eyes on her. Her skin is crawling in a good way, it’s delicious how she can feel the blue on her neck, down her chest. Trixie is buzzing from her toes to her waist.

“Are you good?” Her voice is so raspy, low and rough. Trixie can feel it in her stomach and she quits her borderline chugging of the cool liquid to set the bottle down. She locks eyes with the woman, who’s still smirking, and Trixie wishes that she was wearing heels for once in her life because she’s certain that she’s taller than her but they’re currently the same height because of her red patent-leather shoes. They slide into sharp points at the toes. She’s wearing a tight black dress with a transparent embroidered blouse open on top. Her thighs are bulging against the thin fabric, Trixie can see her veins and tendons and muscles in her calves, her skin is smooth and tan and fuck. She’s staring her up and down. She’s still smirking. Trixie feels like a total idiot but she’s never been so turned on.

The woman brings a veiny hand up to run through her hair, muss her part a little so that her curls fall to one side. 

“Did you hear me?” She’s asking again, still smirking around her words. Trixie can feel a shock hot in her stomach, trickling down at the question. She smells faintly of smoke and strongly of perfume and it’s mixing with the wine, Trixie can see the purple on the woman’s tongue, she’s trying not to drool at how much she wants to suck the taste off.

“I’m good,” Trixie squeaks out. She mentally kicks herself for how unsexy she must be right now, she feels way out-of-depth but at the same time she’s living at how the woman keeps looking her up and down. Trixie must be blushing all down her chest between her breasts, now. 

“Katya,” Trixie can see her biceps through the thin blouse and she can see how strong and veiny her forearms are, too, as she reaches her right hand to Trixie, for her to shake. Trixie clamps her own in it, lets Katya squeeze so tight, God, she’s forceful and strong and everything Trixie could ever dream of. Plus, her smirk still hasn’t deflated. Her inner eyes crinkle, her foundation is creasing under her bottom lashes and Trixie thinks it’s so hot. 

“Trixie,” she almost chokes on her own name. Katya giggles at her little cough, and Trixie does too, and then Katya’s eyebrows are flying up behind an errant gray curl that keeps falling in front of her eyes. Her forehead is wrinkling in surprise and her eyes are wide.

“Trixie? Trixie Mattel?” Her lips are resting, now, around her big pretty teeth. Trixie cocks her head at the question, sips her beer again right as Katya reaches for her wine. They’re drinking at the same time and Trixie can’t help but lift her brows so she can watch Katya’s throat swallow, watch her skin pull up and down over her collarbones. Her lace bra strap is peeking out from under the strap of her dress, and her blouse is bunching up in her armpit. Her skin looks so soft.

“Trixie Mattel,” Trixie allows. Her name is losing meaning with the repetition. 

“So Jenny’s daughter,” Katya’s brows are still up and she’s setting her wine down again. Trixie would pour her some more if she could. She’s almost out.

“Yeah,” Trixie’s nails are under the sticker on her bottle, digging against the sticky part, trying to pull it off. Katya’s eyes are right on her breasts again. “You know my mom?”

Katya’s eyes swing back to her face, scanning over her lips. Trixie wants to yank on her gray hair. She bets that Katya tastes like smoke, and she almost says it but stops herself. 

“Jenny’s great,” Katya is grinning again. Then her fingers are fumbling to pull her purse from where it’s slung across her chest resting behind her to the front. She takes out a silver case of cigarettes and slides one out, gestures to offer it to Trixie, who shakes her head. Katya shrugs and places it between her red lips, clicks the snap shut and slides the little case back into the black leather. Katya lights the cigarette with a silver lighter and Trixie is reminded that her mother’s friends are all rich, middle-aged women, with jobs and cars and houses and lives, and it’s so hot that she almost slides to her knees just as Katya shuts the lighter to put out the little flame.

She’s smoking in Trixie’s mother’s kitchen. And Trixie doesn’t know if that’s allowed, but the cigarette is hanging from her lips and it looks like it could fall at any moment, onto the island where Katya’s elbow is now resting. She looks so careless, like she’s done it a trillion times before and Trixie is sure that she has, with her raspy voice. She puffs out smoke quick just as she inhales, lets it slide out of her mouth just a little before clamping her lips shut, then squishes the plump flesh into a little “O” that Trixie could put her finger into, blowing the smoke out towards the cupboards, almost to the open window over the sink.

Katya’s eyes are half-closed and Trixie doesn’t know if she should speak, or let her smoke, or what. There are silver sparkles pressed onto the black shadow of her lids, which are blended less-than-perfectly into her skin. 

Katya looks up at her from where she’s leaning against the island. Trixie is just standing there, watching her smoke. And then she’s smoked to the butt and she’s putting it out on Trixie’s mother’s marble kitchen island. And then she’s grinning, flicking the butt into the sink, kicking her heel up onto the countertop next to the fridge. Her foot is bony in her red shoe and Trixie’s never wanted to lick the skin of a foot before but she wants to press the veins of Katya’s under her tongue, wants her warm thin skin under her teeth. Katya’s eyes are still on her.

“You just visiting?” Katya’s voice is lower, now that she’s smoked. Trixie looks past her to see that they’re alone. She’s sweating. The window is open and the air is on and it’s all so opulent, Katya is rich and sexy. She’s twisting her foot rhythmically on the countertop so the muscles in her thigh and calf are trembling.

“For maybe six months, yeah,” Trixie hisses out all of the air inside of her at the end of her sentence. Katya hums in interest. She’s still looking up at Trixie through her lashes, and she’s smirking again. It’s so patronizing, the way her crow’s feet deepen down her cheeks, and Trixie is soaking wet. The smoke from Katya’s long-gone cigarette is still clouding her eyes. Or maybe it’s the hot curls deep in her stomach. Or maybe it’s the gray strands of Katya’s hair that are falling in front of her eyes, so that she drunkenly pushes them back with a giggle.

Katya drops her foot down from the counter with a clack of her heel, and then she’s standing full height again, eyes right on level with Trixie’s. Her eye contact is agony. 

“So you just graduated,” Katya states. She’s biting her bottom lip and tapping her nails against the marble. There’s crickets chirping outside the window and the music has been turned up a few notches in the living room and dining room. The clock on the fancy microwave says that it’s midnight. So the party is just starting. Trixie has all night ahead of her with Katya. Because Katya seems to be enjoying teasing her relentlessly with just her eyes and her lips.

“I’ve got my masters, yeah,” Trixie sips her beer again. Katya follows her and finishes her wine, clinks the clear glass down just as Trixie sets her bottle down. Katya reaches to her shoulder, pulls off an imaginary piece of lint. Or maybe a real one. She flicks it off onto the floor, brings her hand back to slide her fingers through Trixie’s long hair just above her shoulder. She clenches them around the strands and yanks a little.

Trixie’s vision blurs instantly and she can’t close her lips fast enough to keep her whine inside them. Katya still has her fingers tugging a little, holding tight, and she’s grinning so big. Trixie is soaking wet, now, Katya is impossibly close and her breath is all sweet smoke and sour wine. Trixie knows she smells like beer and her flowery perfume. 

“Masters in what?” Katya is whispering. They’re so close but still so far apart, and Trixie’s spine is aching. She’s so horny and drunk, Katya lets go of her hair and Trixie doesn’t whine this time. But she misses the pressure on her scalp.

“Fuck. Psychology,” Trixie forces out. Katya is still grinning at her but she’s pulling back, ripping the eye contact apart to turn to the counter. She takes an open bottle of wine and pours some into her empty glass. Trixie is losing her mind with how Katya smells and how she can see the muscles of her back through her shirt.

“Psych! Proud of you. That’s a hard one,” Katya is turning back to her and lifting her glass up in cheers, so close that it almost bumps Trixie’s nose. Her red lips rest on the glass again, and Trixie’s eyes trace the imprints of her lipstick around the rim as she drinks. Trixie hates how much the _proud of you_ is affecting her, Katya’s eyes are hooded over the glass and purple liquid. Trixie is comforted that Katya seems to be just as drunk as she is. But then less comforted when she realizes that she’s not really that drunk, after all.

“Come to the table with me,” Katya winks, leads her by the elbow to the little table in the corner of the kitchen. Then Katya’s hands are on her shoulders, encouraging her down onto one of the dark wood chairs. It’s so dim in the room and it’s dimmer at the table. Katya seats herself next to her, pulls out another cigarette from her purse, lights it almost right in Trixie’s face. 

“So, um. So, what do you do?” Trixie feels like she needs to make small talk, it’s awkward and she can see that Katya doesn’t think that it’s awkward, which is killing her, Katya _likes_ that Trixie feels awkward and it’s obvious and glaring and Trixie is just hoping that she isn’t wet through her dress. Although, who cares at this point, like.

Katya grins around the cigarette. She brings up two thin fingers to prop it between them, held precariously over an ashtray that Trixie had seen her mother place strategically there earlier in the day. This is the Katya that’s been in the house all day while Trixie was showering and shaving and lazing around her rooms completely naked, maybe she was the unfamiliar steps outside Trixie’s door, helping her mom set up for the party. It’s making her mind run with the crazy fantasy of stripping in front of Katya as she lies sprawled, smoking on Trixie’s queen bed, fully clothed or in a bra and thong, just watching her with those eyes. Trixie is squirming in her seat.

“What do I do? Hmmm, good question,” Katya brings the cigarette to her lips again. Her eyes are smiling as she sucks it down, and she blows the smoke out of the corner of her mouth so as to not let any fall through the air onto Trixie’s face. Considerate. “Other than live off of inheritance, I’m teaching astronomy classes at NYU in the fall.”

Katya is smiling brighter, so Trixie can see that her proud front is a joke, but her eyes are also honest and Trixie is melting into a puddle at how she really is filthy rich to match how she seems and it’s almost painful to keep eye contact but Trixie can’t look away, she’s such a presence and she’s just so _there_. Trixie lets her heavy head sit on her hand, propped on her elbow on the floral tablecloth.

“That’s cool,” Trixie whispers. She doesn’t feel like she can talk outright anymore and she’s a little more sober and Katya is so close, little wisps of smoke curling out of her nose. Trixie is leaning in and she knows it, she can’t stop herself because suddenly Katya’s cigarette is in the ashtray and her fingers are curling around Trixie’s fist that’s under her chin, pulling it towards her. Trixie lets her take it, lets her fingers unclench on their own.

“You want me to read your palm?” Katya is whispering, too. It’s gravely. Trixie is losing her mind. Katya’s fingers are sliding across the hot, damp skin of Trixie’s palm, her callouses are tickling her and then she’s tracing a blue vein under the orange lamplight down Trixie’s wrist, just a little ways up her inner arm. Trixie shivers and her fingers twitch.

“Thought you were a scientist, you don’t believe that,” Trixie says a little louder, grappling for purchase in the conversation she understands but also doesn’t. Katya’s fingers are back to her palm, her left hand cupping the back of her hand to hold it up between them. She’s tracing the lines so lightly. It tickles so badly, Trixie wants to yank her hand back. 

Katya laughs outright at that, hot smoky breath right up Trixie’s nose. Her teeth are straight all the way back and her lean face makes lines at each side of her mouth. She keeps laughing, wheezing and slamming her hand down on the table repeatedly, Trixie is giggling along, she can’t help herself. Katya is still holding her hand in the empty space between their bodies.

Katya calms down into little giggles and brings her fingers back to the lines of Trixie’s palm. Trixie was half-hoping that she would have forgotten but the touch of her skin is making Trixie’s arms heavy. She hums tiny hums and huffs little breaths as she slides her fingers around, they skip on Trixie’s sweat.

“‘Kay, well, let’s see here,” Katya mumbles. Her eyes are squinted down at Trixie’s skin. Her breath is brushing against Trixie’s palm. “Hmmmmm, open for romance, long life… you don’t smoke then?”

Katya is grinning up at her again and it’s sinful. Her wine is sitting untouched next to the ashtray and the Tiffany lamp on the cupboards next to the table is casting orange shadows across her face. Two drunk women come stumbling in on six-inch heels, falling over each other, and Trixie doesn’t even look at them, she can’t quit staring into Katya’s eyes. 

Trixie can feel herself smiling, Katya is looking at her lips. They’re both frozen, knees touching _how the fuck did Trixie not realize Katya’s bony knees were pressed against hers they’re so hot bare skin on bare skin Trixie is melting_ , holding hands, and the women are fumbling with the wine Katya had left on the counter, pouring it all out into their glasses.

They stay frozen, just staring, in the dark corner until the women leave in a chaotic mess.

And then the room is silent again but for their crossing breaths. Katya slides forward and her knee slots itself between Trixie’s legs. Trixie is aching from the inside out and she wants Katya _right now_ , wants her to fuck her good and hard. Katya is looking down at her breasts again.

“You’re staying here,” Katya says. Trixie knows what her eyes are saying, too, and she stands up over Katya’s knee and slides their fingers together, yanks her up, too, so hard that Katya wheezes another long laugh. Trixie pulls her away from the table and the chairs, across the kitchen to where the stairs on the west side of the building are situated.

“You wanna see my room?” Trixie doesn’t know how she doesn’t fumble her words, Katya is smirking at her, fucking _still_ , and Trixie’s knees are so weak. Somewhere in the kitchen Trixie’s sandals were kicked off, and she couldn’t care less where they are right now, her bare feet are sticking with sweat to the cool floor. Katya nods, holds a hand to gesture to the stairs, suggesting that Trixie goes first. Fuck. She’s going to fuck one of her mother’s rich friends in her temporary suite that she’s painted all-pink in a childish attempt to make it feel like home. And she’s never been so turned on as she almost trips on the first step, Katya’s hand clasped in hers.

Neither of them can stop giggling as they climb the narrow staircase, the sounds of the party are disappearing behind them and Katya’s little panting breaths are getting louder and louder in almost her ear. 

“Hey. Hey wait,” Katya is whispering. Trixie stops herself, almost teeters to fall. She can feel Katya’s rumbling voice echo in the staircase as she whips around to face her. Katya is down one step from her and her fingers dislodge from Trixie’s, and then they’re on her shoulder, tracing down the v of her dress, her callouses are on the skin of her breasts and Trixie is breathing so heavily, Katya’s hands are so warm and they’re cupping her breasts gently, almost not even touching, and then Katya squeezes her right breast and brings her left hand up to pull her chin down between two fingers, kiss her on the side of her mouth. Trixie whines in her throat, Katya’s lips are just pressing there half on Trixie’s lip gloss and half on her cheek, she isn’t moving and her eyes are closed. 

Trixie tries to turn her head to connect their lips for real, she can’t stop whining and Katya’s strong fingers are kneading her breast, scratching nails along the fabric of her dress to try to harden her nipple, and she’s breathing out of her nose onto Trixie’s upper lip. But Trixie can’t move her head because Katya’s fingers on her chin are too tight, too strong to let her. And then Katya is letting go, pulling back and her teeth are flashing a grin in the blackness. 

“Go on up,” Katya whispers softly. She’s giggling at Trixie’s hanging jaw, at her dumbfounded look, and it takes Katya’s hands pushing lightly at her middle to get her to turn and climb the rest of the stairs. But she’s only two stairs further when Katya’s hand is just lightly resting on her ass, guiding her up, and Trixie almost falls onto the uneven ground with the touch. Katya is fucking insane, and so is Trixie but Katya seems dead set on murdering her. And she’s more than okay with it.

Kaya’s fingers are digging into her ass and Trixie barely has the strength to make it up the stairs. But when she does she pulls Katya up from the two stairs she has left so that she almost twists her ankle in her heels and kisses her hard, dirty and breathy. Trixie’s suite is just down the hall, but she’s pushing Katya up against the wall so that she huffs with the air that’s knocked out of her, digging fingers into her sides and licking along her red lipstick, biting down on it. Katya is laughing into the kiss and she does taste like smoke, Trixie knew it, and her tongue is sticky with red wine. Trixie is dripping down her thighs, now, Katya’s knee is back between her legs so that they can both rut against each other a little. 

But it’s not enough, obviously, and their teeth are clacking together, Katya’s strong arms are pulling around her, lifting her up a little so that she can pull Trixie’s dress up to touch her bare ass, snap her thong against her hip. Trixie whines so loud, she’s sure that the whole house can hear it.

“Hmm, baby,” Katya says into her mouth, and it goes right down Trixie’s throat to her toes, and she’s almost completely limp against Katya against the wall and they need to get to her bedroom because she can’t stand anymore, not when Katya is digging fingers up into her spine and calling her baby.

Trixie slides down Katya’s thigh to plant her feet back on the ground, pulls her dress down over her ass again quickly. Katya is leaning against the wall, foot propped behind her, leg still up casually like Trixie wasn’t just grinding down on her bare skin seconds earlier. Katya is grinning at her, across the A/C cooled hallway, they’re inches apart but it feels like they’re hundreds of feet. Katya’s skin was so hot under her fingers.

“You gonna take me to bed?” Katya asks, eyes bright green through her lashes. She’s taking off her blouse and Trixie wants to scream at the skin of her upper arms as it’s revealed. She bets that Katya is wet, too, and she squeezes her thighs together where she’s standing barefoot. Trixie gulps and nods, presses fingers against Katya’s bare elbow, her skin, fuck, and leads her down the hall.

Katya gives a little laugh, and then they’re at Trixie’s door and Trixie isn’t wasting any time, just pushing it wide open. The lights are all still on and the sudden change is unsettling from the dark of the staircase and the hallway. Katya stands in the middle of the main room looking to Trixie, who is suddenly very sober. And very wet. She can feel it dripping slowly down her thighs and she’s still wondering if it’s showing through her dress. And then Katya is coming up behind her and curling her fingers on her ass, rubbing across it rhythmically, over and over, Trixie’s entire body shudders and Katya giggles from where her mouth is right next to her ear, cool breath from her nose tickling her skin.

Katya is letting go, then, and then both of her hands are coming up to slide into her hair from her temples, push it back behind her ears, all of her fingers on Trixie’s sweaty scalp, and Trixie’s knees really do finally give out with how good it feels, and she moans as she lets herself fall, preparing her hands to catch herself on the floor but Katya’s hands are around her waist and she’s pulling her through the arched doorway to Trixie’s bed. 

She lifts Trixie by her thick thighs to the bed, sets her down amongst the pink silk sheets. It’s ridiculous, how her life has somehow got to being thrown down on the bed in a slutty dress by a forty-five year old woman, but she’s thoroughly enjoying it, Katya looming over her, standing at the end of the bed, reaching behind herself to unzip her tiny black dress. 

Katya is just staring at her as she props herself up against the pillows, with those pale eyes, as she slides the straps of her dress down her shoulders and muscled arms, revealing her black bra and then her toned stomach and then her black thong. Katya drops her dress and her purse at the end of Trixie’s bed, slips her feet out of her heels and climbs up onto the bed, messing the sheets under her knees, crawling on top of Trixie so that their breasts are almost touching and Trixie is still in her dress, it isn’t fair and Katya’s tan abs are heaving with her every breath. 

She’s so fit, so built, and Trixie whines again as Katya captures her lips, scrapes her teeth along them. Katya’s arms are bent at the elbows as she’s hovering atop her, and she’s just holding herself up no problem, knees on either side of Trixie’s hips, kissing her so hard and so invasive that Trixie feels like her tongue is already inside her, and she’s desperate for Katya’s hands on her.

She can’t stop whining, is the thing. It’s embarrassing somewhere way in the back of her mind against the silk pillowcase, but she can’t stop her body from rolling up to try to touch Katya’s, can’t stop her hips from circling into the mattress and then up to try to reach Katya’s where they’re above her.

Katya pulls apart from her laughing, reaches a hand to pinch her cheek a little, lets go when Trixie’s blushing hard again, and then she’s tracing along Trixie’s freckles to slide two of her fingers between Trixie’s lips. Trixie sticks out her tongue to meet them involuntarily, and then she’s sliding if over Katya’s warm fingers and her veins and her hard fingerprints. Her eyes flutter shut but she tries to keep them open so she can watch Katya’s jaw unhinge with Trixie’s gliding tongue, watch as her smile disappears when she moans low at the feeling.

“Baby,” Katya says through her moan, and Trixie is moaning around Katya’s fingers. “What do you want?” 

Trixie wants Katya’s fingers in her, wants her hands all over her, wants, oh, fuck, wants.

Trixie unclenches her fingers from the sheets and pulls Katya’s hand out of her mouth by her thin wrist, trails her hand up her arm to meet her other hand in Katya’s gray curls, pulls hard to bring her down to kiss Trixie again. And when Trixie tugs on the thick strands Katya grunts into her mouth, hisses when Trixie tangles her fingers and twists them. Katya is so fucking hot and when Trixie closes her eyes she can smell her even better, can smell her skin and her cigarettes and her perfume. Trixie tugs hard, then, and Katya is falling down on top of her, and their breasts are finally touching through Trixie’s dress and Katya’s bra. Trixie can feel Katya’s toes digging into the sides of her thighs.

Trixie’s fingers are stuck in Katya’s hair and she pulls them out hard, so that Katya moans into her lips again, and then Trixie is pushing her back by her shoulders. Katya is off of her in record time, watching her closely with those eyes, looking her up and down.

“Just gotta take this off, yeah,” Trixie is panting, she can barely get the words out, and they’re both kneeling on the bed just looking at each other. Katya’s thighs are so strong and she’s sitting on her feet, her back is curved forward and little drops of sweat are running down her breasts onto her bra, disappearing into the black lace. Trixie can see her nipples faintly through, can see how hard they are, and then Trixie’s dress is over her head and her breasts are on display, her white thong cutting into her hips from how her thighs are splayed thick over her calves.

Once Trixie’s dress is on the floor Katya’s fingers are immediately digging into her breasts, pinching her nipples so hard that she yelps, then moans as Katya slides her tongue over where her fingers are clamped. Katya uses her teeth a lot, she’s biting little nips into Trixie’s skin and Trixie can’t believe Katya hasn’t used her fingers or her mouth on her yet, she’s evil and Trixie is squirming still on the sheets. 

“You’re so pretty, baby, baby,” Katya is saying into her breasts, and every time her low voice says _baby_ Trixie’s stomach clenches in pleasure, she’s sweating down her brow now and she can feel it, she wants to wipe it off but her fingers are in Katya’s hair again, pulling so Katya’s toes clench.

Katya’s hands are on her stomach now, and she pinches Trixie’s skin so she yelps, and Trixie can’t help but let go of Katya’s curls once Katya’s fingers are on the edges of her thong, blunt nails scraping along the edge. Katya is teasing her so bad and she can’t take it much longer, she’s going to snap.

Katya’s fingers are on her, then, over the lace, and Trixie is trying to grind down on them, Katya lets her for a few seconds before bringing her hand back to Trixie’s side.

“What do you want,” Katya kisses her again, agonizingly slowly. 

“Fuck me,” Trixie whines, let’s the “e” continue as Katya digs her fingers into her spine again like she was doing in the hallway. Katya is full-on laughing down at her, and Trixie hates how it sends waves of pleasure down her insides. Katya sits up again on the bed, and she isn’t touching Trixie at all, now, and Trixie is trying to prop herself up on her elbows.

Katya’s eyes are on her breasts again, and then on her ass against the sheets. The blue green gives her goosebumps as she slides them down her body and up her body and Trixie can feel her wetness between her clenched thighs, dripping onto the sheets, Katya is just sitting there, and then she’s unhooking her bra and her breasts are against Trixie’s as she’s kissing her again, stretching out across the bed. Trixie reaches up to pinch her nipples and scrape her nails under the soft flesh. It’s so hot, in the room, Katya breathing and Trixie panting. Katya is so collected and strong, pulling Trixie’s thigh up so she hooks her calf behind her back, so they’re rubbing against each other through their thongs.

Katya’s hands. They’re strong, all over her, tightly gripping her hips and digging into her ass, and Trixie can feel her skin bloom up underneath them. And she wants. She wants it so bad and she’s gonna ask, Katya is moaning as Trixie scrapes her nails from under Katya’s breasts around to her back, down to her ass.

“Katya,” Trixie whines, so that Katya brings her head up from where her lips are on Trixie’s collarbone, trailing downwards.

“Trixie,” Katya matches her whine, and it’s so humiliating but her eyes are laughing and Trixie can’t stop her lips from curling up at it and she can’t help her hips from jerking up at it. But Katya is watching her closely again, waiting for her to speak.

“I want,” Trixie is still squirming and Katya’s fingers are on her jaw, now, holding her face so that she can’t help but look into her eyes. Katya looks all down her to where she’s pushing her ass into the sheets, wiggling around.

“You want my hand on your ass? You want me to touch you?” Katya is whispering so quietly that Trixie can barely hear her but she moans brokenly, nodding frantically, and then Katya’s finger is over her mouth, shushing her. Trixie kisses it, licks over it so that Katya pulls it back again. Katya pulls Trixie’s hips towards her, flips her over no problem with those hands and those arms, so that she’s on her stomach on the sheets.

“Hmmmm, wanna see you, from the front, bet you’re delicious,” Katya is mumbling to herself, and Trixie’s back is arching to lift her hips from the bed, to hold her ass up to Katya. “I can wait, though, this ass, fuck.”

Katya’s hands are on her cheeks, then, and then she’s pulling Trixie’s thong off quickly, down her thighs and whispering _knees up!_ so that she can pull it all the way off, past her feet. And she pinches Trixie’s little toe between two fingers, slides her hands back up Trixie’s legs so that both of her palms are flat against her ass, squeezing. Trixie could feel Katya’s fingers slide through the wetness on her inner thighs and now she’s spreading it, massaging it into the skin of Trixie’s ass. Trixie can't stop pushing back into Katya’s hands and she just wants her to do it, already.

“You want my tongue?” Trixie whines into the pillow. God, yes, she does, and Katya is laughing at her again, she can feel her breath on her skin cold where she’s so wet. She wants Katya’s tongue but she wants Katya to spank her more and it’s so much to ask her, she’s just letting it bubble up inside until she loses it. And then Katya is rubbing a finger over her hole and she’s gasping with how she’s finally touching her and she needs it.

“Can you,” Trixie is choking. She thinks Katya knows, which is agony, she’s going to make her ask and it’s killing her, she can feel Katya’s body behind her.

“Baby,” Katya’s hands are circling over her skin, slowly so slowly. Trixie is whining and wiggling her ass in the air still and it’s too much, her head is swirling and maybe she’s still a little drunk, even if she was sober five minutes ago, she feels foggy with how turned on she is and how close Katya is, how Katya wants her to say it and how she can’t.

But then Katya’s hands are off her and she’s pulling a pillow over from the side of the bed to sit on, and her hands are pulling Trixie over her lap, and Trixie is keening, her eyes crossing with the manhandling. 

“You want me to spank you, don’t you?” Katya giggles. Her big hand is circling over Trixie’s ass and her fingers dip between her cheeks every once in a while, Trixie nods over and over and over and Katya is still laughing when her fingers grip Trixie’s waist even tighter and her flat palm slaps down onto her skin.

“Oh!” Trixie gasps, and moans, almost yells as Katya trails her fingers down and slides a finger up into her slick wetness, pumps in and out twice and then Trixie is empty again and Katya’s hand is slapping back down, and it hurts so bad, she’s so strong, so built, and Trixie is trying to grind down on her thigh but she can’t reach it and the skin of Katya’s legs under her stomach is hot hot hot.

“Hmmmm, baby,” Katya is humming as she keeps spanking Trixie, over and over and stopping every two to run her fingers to the irritated skin, press kisses there, lick the red marks, and Trixie can feel how wet Katya is from where it’s sliding onto her thighs and then onto Trixie’s stomach. Trixie can feel her orgasm building and she can’t stop it, Katya’s only slid a finger in her once and Trixie doesn’t have any friction, her stomach propped up atop Katya’s thighs. 

“Katya, I’m gonna come, Katya,” Trixie babbles, her words are slurring and Katya spanks her one last time and then she’s being shifted again and Katya’s nose and tongue are on her, licking over her clit fast, repeatedly, and Trixie is coming, tensing all of her muscles up so tight, and Katya is turning her over on her back again, fingering her slowly through it, looking right into her eyes, then kissing her so nicely and sweetly and Trixie comes for what feels like hours, moaning onto Katya’s pretty teeth.

Trixie’s eyes are rolled all the way back into her head, and the moment is so chaotic, Katya moving above her, kissing her chin and her eyelids. Trixie can’t open her eyes but she can smell and hear Katya moaning over her, so she wrenches her lids to see her climbing from where she’s perched and she’s pulling her thong off, and Trixie reaches a hand to Katya’s own hand trailing down her abs past her belly button. She reaches Katya’s lips before Katya does and slides two slow fingers inside, Katya is hot and swollen around her, and she’s bearing down on Trixie’s fingers, too. 

Trixie lets her thrust down, and Katya’s own fingers are rubbing over her clit and then she’s tightening around Trixie’s fingers with a shaky, hoarse moan. The fingers of her own hand are circling Trixie’s wrist and she tightens them through her orgasm, her grip is so strong that Trixie can feel her stomach fill with warmth again. 

Katya lets her teeth clench and crow’s feet screw up as she comes and Trixie wants to kiss them, and when Katya is still twitching from aftershocks she gathers Trixie up in her arms, so that their breasts are pressed up against each other, so that Katya has a warm hand on Trixie’s irritated ass.

Katya smells good and Trixie wants to sleep, there’s still music playing downstairs and she’s in silk sheets with a much older woman that’s filthy rich and calls her “baby” like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Trixie is so tired, bone-tired, and she lets herself drift off with sticky fingers and wet thighs, Katya’s makeup smeared on her breasts.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Shhhh, baby, gotta be quiet,” Katya says into her skin. Trixie whimpers but keeps her lips closed, and then Katya is reaching behind her and unzipping her dress, peeling it down and off her body, taking her thong with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's chapter 2. there should be a longer wait for ch. 3, just a warning!
> 
> thanks to everyone that's liked this fic so far!!! i hope you like this chapter just as much.
> 
> <3

Trixie wakes up totally disoriented. She’s being crushed by something, it’s hot and she’s suffocating and she eventually realizes that it’s Katya. Fuck. It’s Katya. What time is it?

It’s only 9am which she’s endlessly thankful for, her mom doesn’t wake up past 11 on weekdays let alone on a weekend she’s been partying throughout. Trixie pulls herself out from under Katya’s warm, naked body to go pee. But before she climbs out of bed she sits on the sheets for a minute. Katya hasn’t batted an eyelash and is totally dead to the world. Her mouth is hanging open and her makeup is a nightmare, but the skin of her back is so soft, her muscles are so defined. She’s snoring a little, through her wonderful pointed nose, and Trixie can see the shadows of her wrinkles in the skin of her face. She’s so hot, still, even when Trixie is painfully sober and painfully aware of the repercussions of last night.

She goes to pee and decides to take a quick shower with one look at herself in the mirror, and just as she’s done washing her body and is about to start on her hair there’s a knock on her bathroom door. She jumps, drops the shampoo bottle with a crash, curses the loud noise to the heavens and back.

“What?” She whisper-screams, and then she can see Katya come in the room through the glass of the shower door. She’s still naked and she taps on the clear, foggy glass jokingly, sits down to pee. Trixie doesn’t watch, doesn’t listen, she doesn’t want to get so comfortable with Katya yet that they’re both acting like an old married couple. Well. Not that she’s planning to date Katya. That would be ridiculous and way too self-serving and Katya would die when she’s like, thirty, probably, ‘cause she smokes, and Trixie really needs to shut up, now, since Katya is pulling the door to the shower open and climbing in alongside her. 

She’s all up in Trixie’s space and Trixie can’t help but smile back at her, Katya fishes around for Trixie’s makeup remover and Trixie hands it to her. Katya lets their fingers touch for a prolonged second, then opens the cap and washes her face messily.

She looks so good under the water, squinting and rubbing her eyes, her gray hair wet down her back, straightened. Trixie is just finishing scrubbing her own hair out of the stream and Katya opens her eyes, turns to take Trixie’s shoulders in her hands and leads her so her head is tipped back beneath the water. Her strong fingers slide through Trixie’s long strands, Trixie is trying and failing to not reach to finger Katya right now, her hip is hot under her hand and Trixie can see her ribs under the soft swell of her breasts. 

“Did you sleep good?” Katya whispers. Her fingers feel so nice on Trixie’s scalp, and Trixie’s eyes are closed but she wants to see Katya’s face without makeup, wants to kiss her bare lips. And then Katya is squeezing the water out of Trixie’s curls methodically, rinsing them again for good measure. And Trixie can tilt her head forward and look into Katya’s eyes, run her eyes over the gray hairs in her blonde brows. She’s so gorgeous, and she moves like she knows what she’s doing, her face is serious under the water but Trixie can see her eyes smirking at her still, and Trixie crosses the two inches to connect their lips. 

Katya kisses so thoroughly. It’s deep and nasty and it trickles right down Trixie’s stomach. And Katya’s fingers trickle, too, follow the water lightly, tickling over Trixie’s breasts down to rub over her folds, just barely ghosting across the skin. Trixie whimpers and thrusts up onto Katya’s hand. Katya lets her, slides a finger inside and Trixie is already so wet, Katya’s finger is filling her up just right and pumping up to her g-spot immediately.

Trixie lets Katya push her shoulders against the freezing cold tile wall, which just makes her shiver and whimper again, Katya pulls so many humiliating noises out of her and Trixie doesn’t even know her, Trixie has never been so turned on in her life as she was last night and it’s carrying over into the next day, apparently.

Katya is slowly rubbing her with her calloused thumb, it’s silent but for the shower. The tile behind Trixie is warming up to her skin and doesn’t hurt anymore, but then Katya is even closer and Trixie is backing up, her ass knocking against the wall, and it’s so sore that she yelps, into where Katya is trying to kiss her.

Katya pulls back, fingers still in her and on her and God, she’s going to try to talk to Trixie about last night while fucking her so good, just slowly, and Trixie pushes her ass forward so that Katya’s finger goes deeper and her thumb brushes against her clit. Katya’s eyes light up at how Trixie is bearing down on her.

“How are you feeling?” Katya asks, and Trixie shushes her, so quickly that her volume decreases into a whisper halfway through the sentence. It’s too early, and Trixie’s already dropped the shampoo and yelled, and her mom won’t wake up but she doesn’t know if people stayed over, and she’s going to have to go downstairs to survey the scene before she sneaks Katya out and it’s also fucking raining, if all of the rest of it wasn’t enough. But Trixie’s orgasm is building up so quick inside of her. Katya’s hand is on her jaw, on her neck, and it’s sending goosebumps across her skin. Katya raises her eyebrows, nods, and Trixie realizes she hasn’t even answered the question, yet.

“I’m, I’m, fuck! Good, I like it,” Katya will know what she means. She’ll know that Trixie means that she likes Katya and likes the bruises on her ass and likes how her stomach is burning hot watching Katya grip Trixie’s wrist to bring her fingers to her own opening. Katya laughs, grins at her answer and Trixie is watching her eyes, then, as they roll back when Trixie slides her wetness back over her clit.

“Well I’m glad you like it,” Katya is doing that goddamn smirk again, Trixie is about to come from it, and then Katya leans in even closer, and how does she keep leaning in closer and closer and closer doesn’t she run out of space? “Come, baby.”

Katya bumps their lips together, and Trixie is coming, her moan getting swallowed up into Katya’s morning wine breath. and Katya thrusts down on her hand harder to build her own orgasm, comes minutes later with Trixie’s fingers in her mouth and on her clit.

Katya washes her body after while Trixie is brushing her teeth, and it’s too domestic for Trixie. She wraps herself in a towel and walks to the balcony attached to her bedroom. It’s big enough for a table with two chairs, and she’s sure that Katya will join her in minutes, but for now it’s nice to be covered from the rain by the awning made by the balcony above. 

It’s quiet on the grounds, and Trixie could sneak Katya out right now with no problem. But then Katya is coming through the glass with her silver case and lighter, shutting the door behind her so the smoke doesn’t creep in. She’s in a towel, too, but it’s just around her waist and her nipples are so pink and hard from the cool summer thunderstorm air and Trixie wants to lick over them.

Katya lights her cigarette and smokes it slower than she’d been smoking last night. She furrows her brow and looks out to the trees, all of the swallowing green around the house. Trixie’s mom’s garden, the only clear reminder of the old farmhouse, is settled in the far corner of the immediate yard, a little fence breaking it from the land beyond so that the flowers grow the way her mom wants them to.

Trixie can feel Katya’s eyes on her, then, and she turns to look. Katya is looking her up and down, and there’s a tiny drip in the far corner of the balcony. It’s repeatedly smacking against the concrete. Katya smiles slowly, and her eyes are patient and happy, and her gray hair is drying down her neck and her back. Trixie feels bad for pulling it so hard, maybe.

Katya bites the inner corner of her mouth and finishes her cigarette, and then she’s scooting her chair so that she’s facing Trixie head-on, so that there’s only a couple inches between their bare knees. Trixie is reminded of being drunk in the dim kitchen, how Katya’s eyes sparkled. Now they’re still sparking, but the lighting is different.

“I had fun last night,” Katya is scanning her face, smiling serenely. Trixie smiles back, and all of her nerves are gone, just like when Katya whispered for her to turn so she could kiss her long on the stairs. Katya’s tan skin looks so good against the green of the trees, her breasts have a few freckles on them that Trixie somehow missed last night and Trixie can spot all of the soft blonde hairs on Katya’s arms in the shadow of the balcony.

“I did too,” Trixie is grinning, now, biting her bottom lip, and Katya leans across the empty space and kisses her chastely. There’s a faint, distant crash of thunder somewhere. Both of Katya’s dry hands are cupping Trixie’s cheeks.

The skin of Katya’s round shoulders is soft. The rain sounds so nice and Trixie is pleasantly tired, the kind where her head is a little foggy and her eyes are a little droopy. But it’s not stopping her from realizing that she needs to kick Katya out of the house before her mom wakes up, or at least force her downstairs so she can say that she slept in one of the endless guest rooms. The idea of eating breakfast in the big kitchen with Katya and her mom, without her mom knowing that Katya bent her over her thighs and spanked the living daylights out of her the night before is making Trixie’s stomach warm.

Katya kisses her nose right as she pulls away. She leans back against the metal of the chair and just watches Trixie squirm in her towel.

“You have to leave,” Trixie says, forces it out before she looks at Katya’s bare breasts a second too long and pulls her back to bed, hides her in her rooms for the whole day and just fucks her, lets her run her hands all over Trixie again. Katya smiles at the statement, nods.

“I know,” Trixie’s thighs are still twitching, and Katya is smirking again so her toes are curling against the concrete. Katya leans forward to pat Trixie on the knee twice, before jumping up and starting to the door. She swipes her case and lighter off of the table, and runs a hand through her hair again. It’s drying a little wonky, her curls are tangled beneath her fingers, puffing out farther from her head than they did last night when they were all brushed through.

“Hey,” Trixie can’t help but put a hand on Katya’s shoulder to stop her right in front of the loveseat across from the vanity. Trixie can see them standing reflected in the mirror and they look good, Trixie likes how they’re standing next to each other. Katya turns to face her, those deep, knowing eyes all over her lips and cheeks and eyes. Trixie has a faint memory of Katya pinching her cheek last night, and she begs her brain to not make her blush.

“Hey,” Katya copies her, it seems to be a running theme and Katya is sitting on the back of the loveseat, perching on the upholstery in her wet towel. Trixie doesn’t give a shit, she spilled champagne on the seat two nights ago, anyways. Katya’s arms are crossed under her breasts. Her veins are visible through her tan skin, on her chest and down her arms. Trixie breathes in fast and deep.

“Will I see you next Saturday?” Trixie’s mom is throwing another party. Katya’s smirk spreads wide into a huge grin and she rocks back and forth where she’s seated in front of Trixie. She is shorter than Trixie without her heels, and it makes Trixie feel less tiny in her patient presence. Katya nods, still grinning. It seems like she moves so quickly but also so slowly. Trixie pulls herself away like a fucking heavy-duty magnet, to go find clothes. She just pulls on a bralette and sundress, thinks for a couple seconds before deciding to pull a thong on underneath as well.

“For sure,” Katya walks to stand next to her, watch her get dressed. She just keeps scanning her eyes up and down Trixie’s body, and Trixie’s fingers feel huge and fumbling under her gaze. She’s still so fucking turned on, and she can tell that Katya is too from how her hips are shifting under the towel.

“Trixie!” Trixie’s jaw drops and she drops her brush with a clatter on the dresser. Katya’s eyebrows fly up and she pulls her towel up over her breasts, crossing silently over to the bedroom, standing hidden behind the wall. Trixie’s mom is pounding on the door.

“Yes, mom!” Trixie yells back. “I’m not dressed, don’t come in!” Trixie is dressed but Katya is still hiding behind the wall, Trixie can’t even see her, but her mom cannot come inside.

“Come for breakfast in 30!” With one last bang on the door the hallway is quiet. Trixie can hear her mom go down to the other guest bedrooms and do the same, earning some yells. 

“Fuck,” Trixie sighs. Now she’s going to have to get Katya to breakfast, she’s going to have to come and Trixie doesn’t know if she brought an overnight bag like the other guests that planned to stay, she could probably wear some of Trixie’s clothes that her mom hasn’t seen yet, but they likely won’t fit her. And Katya is already pulling on her bra, leaving her thong where she dropped it the night before.

“Well that’s ruined,” Katya giggles down at it. She lifts her black dress and inspects it, picks at something on the front before pulling it back on, and Trixie can see all of her muscles through it. Katya pads over to her on bare feet, turns so her back is facing Trixie. “Zip me?”

Trixie zips, over Katya’s freckles and spine, all the way up to her strong, round shoulders. Her warmth is overwhelming, still, and Trixie’s come so hard twice in the past twenty-four hours so she can’t again but she _can_ run her hands all down Katya’s bare arms, scraping her a little with her nails. Katya turns back around to scrutinize her reflection for a few moments as Trixie finishes brushing her hair, fiddling with her gray curls to tame them a little. Trixie wants to touch them and she leans over, takes a loop between two fingers, lets the strands circle her fingertip. She tugs on it a little and Katya laughs, swats her hand away.

Katya is pinching her cheeks for a little blush and Trixie’s blushing watching her do it, she’s entrancing and Trixie pulls her long hair into a side braid while Katya fixes her dress so that it isn’t twisted around her waist. Trixie watches her, waits for her to finish. Katya stares at her in the mirror the whole time, and Trixie breaks the eye contact, goes back to the dresser to pick up her mascara, put a couple coats on. She needs a distraction.

She can hear people leaving the house. The balcony door is still open even though it’s raining lightly, and she can hear car doors shutting in the circular driveway, can hear yelling and laughing as people pack their cars up. She knows that it’ll just be her, her mom, and Katya left for breakfast, it’s just her luck, and Katya will probably smirk at her across the table the entire time, and her mom will just sit oblivious.

“I’ll go to a guest room to muss up a bed,” Katya is saying, and then she’s picking up her red heels and leather purse in hand, leaving her thong on the floor, crossing the hardwood floor to the door. Trixie slides on bare feet to stop her before she can turn the knob, and now it’s her turn to smirk down at Katya. She holds her phone out to her in one hand. Katya gazes back up at her.

“I’ll call you if you put your number in,” Trixie grins, Katya drops her shoes and purse on the floor and takes Trixie’s phone, types in her number and name. Then she’s sliding the phone back into Trixie’s hand, and her arms are twisting around Trixie’s waist to pull her close, her lips are smooth and bare against Trixie’s. She tastes like Trixie’s toothpaste, and when she pulls back there’s a tiny line of spit connecting them. Katya giggles at it, and then she’s gone.

Trixie’s rooms are painfully silent, and she suddenly feels thrown into something she doesn’t even remotely understand. It’s all so confusing and her stomach is clenching with nerves about the inevitable breakfast with her mom and Katya, she’s terrified to see Katya again in the kitchen, at the small table with the ashtray her mom put out for her. She’s terrified to see Katya eating scrambled eggs and toast, drinking coffee in the early morning rainy gloom.

-

She’s terrified to do it, but she does it anyway. When she makes it down the stairs, texting Kim in code that she has a huge fucking story to tell her later, her mom is already at the stove, making the eggs, and Trixie’s heart races to her throat at how Katya is sitting at the tiny table, smoking out the window.

“Hi Trix, will you set the table? That’s Katya, I don’t know if you maybe met her last night? Well here she is. She’s from New York, works at NYU, you should ask her for a job, pumpkin!” Trixie wants her mom to shut the fuck up. Her back is turned so she can’t see how Katya is smirking around her cigarette, flicking her lighter on-and-off, can’t see how Katya’s eyes are boring into her head, tracing around her waist in the sundress. Trixie sticks out her tongue at her and Katya coughs on smoke with laughter.

Jenny is stupid, is the thing. Her mom is a fucking idiot and she can never read cues or signs or emotions. So they should be good, but at the same time, they’re screwed because she’s bound to ask awkward questions, bound to force the two of them to interact. It’s making Trixie want to curl up into a ball under the table, but then _oh God she’d be right at Katya’s feet and Katya is just smoking and she’d bring Trixie’s face between her legs and fuck she can’t think about that right now._

Trixie goes to the cupboard to grab three plates, forks and knives and napkins. She walks to the table to set the plates and Katya’s elbow is resting in front of her on the tablecloth, blocking where Trixie would put her plate.

“Hey, baby,” Katya whispers, looking up at her through her lashes. She’s still bare-faced, and her cigarette is dangling between the first two fingers of her hand. Trixie can feel her blush creep up as Katya’s eyes scan over her breasts and then down her braid, Trixie’s hair that Katya washed in Trixie’s shower just an hour ago. “Nice to see ya.”

Trixie looks back to her mom, still focused on the eggs and bacon on the stove, and quickly brings a hand to grip Katya’s forearm, move her elbow out of the way to set the plate down. Katya’s smirk grows and Trixie rolls her eyes at her, tries to ignore the bubbling in her stomach at how her full lips curl up. Trixie puts the rest of the dishes down and sniffs. She allows her eyes to trail back up to Katya’s.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Trixie is keeping her voice as even as it can be. Katya exhales smoke to the side, like she did last night, and gives Trixie a full smile, a sneaky smile, and Trixie is going insane with how her energy is pulling her forward, Trixie wants to be on her lap, nose in her curls as Katya smokes by bending her elbow around her head, ignoring her completely.

“Coffee sounds nice,” Katya’s eyes are boring into her eyes, her red cheeks. Her fingers meet her lips with her cigarette and then she’s blowing the smoke right in Trixie’s face, and Trixie barely registers it but her body does first and she turns to go get Katya her coffee, pours it into a mug with shaking fingers. She pours some for herself, too, and fishes the cream out of the fridge. Katya is done with her cigarette by the time she returns to the table, and Trixie sets her mug down in front of her, puts the cream next to the ashtray. Katya’s been chain smoking since she joined Trixie’s mom, there are five butts scattered where there was only one last night. 

Jenny’s coffee is already at the chair across from Katya and Trixie is going to have to sit at the chair next to her, fucking hell, Katya who smells like Trixie’s shampoo just faintly under the smoke. She sits, hisses at how her bruised ass makes contact with hardwood, and Katya’s hand is immediately on her bare thigh, dry and firm. Trixie wants to melt away into her coffee cup, and she reaches to get the cream. Her mom turns around and both of Katya’s hands are on the table in the same second, reaching to fiddle with her napkin. 

All of the eggs and vegetarian bacon are passed around, and Trixie holds her breath every time she passes a plate to Katya, every time their fingers almost touch but don’t quite. She’s sitting stock still in a futile attempt to stop squirming, her ass is aching against the chair from the bruises Katya left there the night before. 

Katya is right next to her, sometimes their elbows bump and Trixie has to clench her teeth harder than she ever has, and Jenny’s just sitting there, chewing on her toast, chatting on about the party. 

“Katya, I want to know,” Jenny stops to swallow. All of the blood is rushing to Trixie’s ears. Does she know? Is she going to ask? Fuck.

“Yes,” Katya prompts. Trixie’s hands are shaking a little and she grips her fork in an attempt to steady them. Katya’s hair is almost all pushed to one side, shining in the low light, and she runs her unoccupied hand through it, fluffing up her curls a little. Trixie thinks it’s so hot, the gray, Katya’s fingers pulling and tugging over the fucking kitchen table, probably getting it in her food. She’s so careless, and Trixie wants her. Bad.

“How easy is it to get a job at NYU? Trixie’s unemployed and I’d love for her to stay here, but she wants out, of course, I don’t blame her, she wants her life to start and I’m all for it, you know, she’s so smart! So, I was wondering…” Trixie lets her mother’s voice trail off, lets herself become distracted with how Cat is sitting at her foot. She reaches down to pick him up and feels Katya’s eyes on her. She lets the little dog sit on her lap and lick her face, blissfully allows it to distract her from where Katya and her mom are discussing her fate.

“She could always come stay with me for a while, explore the city, and look for jobs then. I have plenty of space and I’m happy to help her out,” Trixie’s head whips up at Katya’s low voice. She’s looking at Trixie, her eyes flicking over to where the corgi is licking her cheek, wriggling in her lap. She smirks a little.

“Oh! Oh Katya, would you let her? That sounds wonderful, Trixie, you’ll do that, won’t you, go visit and check it out, yeah?” Trixie nods, she can’t tear her eyes from Katya’s, how they’re sparkling and sneaky across the table.

-

Trixie spends a lot of time just sitting around, still, the week before the next party. Katya is scheduled to take her home with her after the party on Saturday, and Trixie doesn’t have any friends to see or anything to do but browse the internet, check the status of her applications. She’s full of energy, though, just wants Katya’s eyes on her.

And then, in the early Monday afternoon, Trixie’s phone rings.

She’s sitting out by the pool, tanning nude, her mom is out for mani-pedis and she’s drinking raspberry lemonade sprawled out sweating on a lawn chair. Trixie fumbles with sunscreen fingers to see who’s calling her and she answers immediately when she realizes that it’s Katya.

“Hi,” Trixie curses her stumbling over the word.

“Trixie! Hi,” Katya laughs, and Trixie smiles with her. “How are you! I’m on lunch and I’m bored, and I wanted to talk to you, what’s up?” Trixie can hear cars rushing by wherever Katya is, and it’s nice, makes her stomach tingle.

“I’m out by the pool, Nobody’s home so I’m taking advantage of that. Like, naked,” Trixie can’t help but spill it. And then Katya fucking whimpers, over the phone, and Trixie clenches her thighs together. There’s a moment of silence, and then.

“Baby,” Katya chokes out.

“Hmmm yeah?” Trixie’s hand is reaching to touch herself, the sun is beating down so hot and she’s a little dizzy, she should take a dip or go inside or something. But Katya is on the phone.

“I’m gonna call you tonight, okay? And then you can get out all your frustration, okay, but right now let me tell you about my day,” Trixie sighs out, lets her hand fall from her stomach. Katya waits for the okay and then starts to tell Trixie about the donuts in the breakroom, how she missed them but still got some coffee, and how fun her morning research session was. Trixie lets her talk and talk, and laugh at herself and at her students, and Trixie can feel herself like Katya more and more, finds herself laughing out loud, screeching at Katya’s jokes. 

And then she calls Trixie every day at her lunch break, and after dinner, when Trixie is holed up in her room, or sitting out on the balcony. Katya just keeps calling her, and Trixie can talk with her for ages and not get tired of it, Katya is charming and funny, so fucking funny, and she can laugh and laugh at Trixie’s jokes too. Trixie is fucked, and there’s no way around it. Especially when Katya gets flowers delivered to the mansion, with a note that reads _For Trixie, beautiful blonde babe! <3_. 

Trixie knows that they’re from Katya and her mom tries to guess, begs her to tell her about her new girlfriend. Trixie doesn’t, she brings the pink roses up to her room in a big vase, calls Katya and talks her off over the phone, almost whispering in case her mom tries to listen through the door.

-

The room is smoky, it’s dim and small, claustrophobic. But it’s filled to the brim with people, and Trixie needs to climb through the crowd to get to where Katya is sitting on an armchair in the corner. She’s looking down at her phone, sunglasses pushing her gray curls back from her forehead. Trixie comes up next to her, back against the wall, and taps her shoulder. Katya’s eyes flick up and she smiles impossibly slowly, like she’s moving in molasses.

Trixie is a little high from the joint she smoked in her room, slowly enough that she would be late to the party again. Everything is smooth and slow, swirling.

“Sit down, baby,” Katya is patting her knee and fuck, Trixie is looking around the room ‘cause she’s gonna do it, she’s going to sit on Katya’s lap, she can’t stop herself. Katya is uncrossing her long, bare legs, she’s wearing a miniskirt and Trixie can see her muscles all the way to where it ends, and that’s so high, up to the very top of her thighs. She’s twisting her lighter around between her fingers, her eyes are bright green in the low light. 

Trixie can’t see her mom anywhere and she doesn’t know any of these people, and this is maybe the worst decision that she’s ever made but she’s maneuvering around the side table to stand right in front of Katya. Katya is looking up at her through her lashes, she’s blushing and she feels like an idiot for painting blush _on_ earlier, of course she would blush the second Katya’s eyes were on her, she probably looks like a fucking clown. But then Katya’s hand is curling around her ass to grip her hip, pulling her down onto her lap before she can struggle.

And she doesn’t struggle, once she’s there Katya is a little bony but Trixie’s ass is big enough that it’s comfortable to sit on her thighs, and Katya’s hands are on her ass and on her knee, Trixie’s feet hanging off the arm rest. She likes it, how Katya is still so warm, how strong she is.

“How’s your week been,” Katya’s voice is gravely, their faces are so close and Trixie’s fingers are on Katya’s fingers on her knee, and Katya is rubbing circles into her skin with her thumb. Trixie has goosebumps all up her back. 

“You’ve talked to me every day,” Trixie talks back, and Katya throws her head back in a big laugh, and Trixie can trace veins in her neck with her eyes, until Katya’s head is back down, eyes meeting hers. She’s just staring, watching her. And Trixie realizes that maybe Katya is just entranced by her, her face and her body, because when they’ve talked on the phone Katya has rambled and shared her entire fucking life story multiple times over, and Trixie is suddenly just soaking wet thinking about how Katya’s voice lowers when it gets late. And how little she’s spoken when they’ve met in person versus how much she talks on the phone.

Katya’s hand on her knee is creeping up, and then it’s between her thighs, pinching the soft skin there, pinching so hard that Trixie hisses in a quick breath and whines it out, and the room is loud for the music and chatter but they’re just sitting on the armchair, anyone could see how Katya’s hand is under her dress, and Trixie is still so wet, Katya is breathing onto her face and still pinching and Trixie is panting loudly. Katya’s fingers dig into her ass.

“You’re so bad,” Katya breathes, and her pupils are so wide, one brow raised with the corner of her lip, Trixie is starting to wiggle on her lap, but Katya’s tight grip doesn’t let her move. And she likes it.

“Stop it,” Trixie whispers, and Katya’s fingers let go, but Trixie misses them and she wants them inside her, just here on the chair.

Eventually Katya’s legs are spread a little and Trixie’s ass is situated half between them, she’s afraid that she’s crushing her but Katya seems to be paying her no mind, talking across the table with the dim lamp to a friend, about tenure and pay and all of the cons of working at a University. Trixie isn’t listening, well, she’s half-listening. But she’s tired and coming down from her high and the half glass of wine was just enough to make her even sleepier, and she’s nodding off a little in Katya’s arms. 

Katya pulls her in closer, and Trixie lets her move her legs like a rag doll, so that they’re both comfortable. Katya is still talking and Trixie can feel her voice rumble from where her cheek is resting on her shoulder, her eyes are sliding closed and then Katya’s hand is on the side of her head, thumb on her earlobe. She’s pulling a cigarette from her case resting on the table and sticking it between her lips right in front of Trixie’s eyes, and Trixie can see her muscles flex in her neck as she swallows before lighting it. 

Katya smokes slowly, between red lips and conversation, blows the smoke away from Trixie like she does, but Trixie’s still getting swallowed in it, and she doesn’t mind because Katya’s voice is getting rougher, deeper, Trixie can feel it from where her hand is resting on Katya’s toned stomach, can feel it vibrating beneath her fingers. Katya’s colleague is just chatting with her like this is an everyday occurrence, and Trixie knows it isn’t with how hard Katya is pursuing her, so she just lets herself drift off, lets herself feel Katya’s legs underneath her, Katya’s hand that’s now running slowly through her hair. Katya lights another cigarette and Trixie lets her eyes close completely, and she can smell Katya’s perfume where she’s smeared it on her neck and where it’s lightly living in her top. 

“Trix,” Katya is pulling on her earlobe, and Trixie lets herself blink a few times, the room is darker and Katya is still smoking, there are less people and Trixie can hear Katya swallow. Trixie’s lips are against Katya’s neck, her gray hair is in Trixie’s eyes. Katya’s hand slides down to her shoulder, pulling her back, and Trixie sits up a little, moves her hand up to rub her eyes before realizing that she’s wearing makeup. She lightly swipes her inner eyes and covers her yawn, Katya breathing underneath her.

“Good morning,” Trixie mumbles, and Katya wheezes a laugh around where her cigarette is dangling precariously between her lips. Trixie brings her hand back to Katya’s stomach, squeezes her side so Katya jumps, digs her fingers into her back. Trixie blinks a few times to wake up and then she climbs off Katya’s lap, lets herself fall onto the empty chair across the table from her. Trixie’s dress is all bunched up, and she tries to twist it so that the built-in underwire isn’t digging into her ribs.

“Uncomfortable?” Katya asks. She’s staring at her with those eyes again, and she’s crossed her tan legs now that Trixie isn’t on top of her. Trixie feels a little guilty, she doesn’t know how long she’s slept for but there are still other people in the room, sitting on the couch against the opposite wall and standing around the window. Trixie nods and can’t stop her pout, her dress is tight and terrible and she looked hot earlier but now it’s bedtime, she wants to sleep in bed and she’s still a little foggy, she wants to sleep with Katya like she was sprawled out over her lap earlier. 

“I’m going to bed,” Trixie starts to stand, and she expects Katya to follow her, stand with her, but she doesn’t, she just stays seated on the armchair. Trixie furrows her brows down at her and Katya stares up at her, straight faced. 

“Goodnight, then,” Katya says. Trixie’s mouth falls open a little, in indignation. Katya smiles a little, picks up her phone from where it’s sitting on the table, unlocks it with her thumb and starts browsing an article she must have been reading as Trixie slept. Trixie’s feet are stuck to the ground, she doesn’t know what Katya wants from her, why she’s ignoring her. 

But she does, deep down. And she bends down, brings her hands down to Katya’s round shoulders, thumbs pressing into her long collarbone. She lets her fingers trail down to Katya’s hands, pulls her phone away from her, locks it again. Trixie sets it on the table again, and now Katya’s fingers are splayed on the ends of the arm rests, her legs aren’t crossed anymore and she’s looking up at Trixie, squinting. The room is still filled with smoke. 

“Thought it was bedtime?” Katya’s saying and it goes right to Trixie’s stomach, Katya’s eyes are on her breasts now and how they’re almost falling out of the tiny dress. Trixie is wide awake, now, Katya’s fingers are clenching the upholstery. Trixie turns to the side and plops herself back down on Katya’s thighs, kisses her lazily, and Katya kisses back without hesitation. Katya tastes overwhelmingly of dry smoke, and Trixie’s tongue traces along her teeth quickly, trailing saliva across them. 

Katya is groaning into her mouth, gripping her hip and her thigh, and Trixie’s thigh pressing up against Katya’s stomach is rumbling with her low noises. Katya pulls her in, tight, kissing harder and harder, and Trixie is so awake, biting Katya’s lips and letting Katya’s hand cup her breast, squeeze it with fingers on her flesh, on the dress. 

“Baby,” Katya moans into her mouth, she brings her fingers up to press into Trixie’s cheek, thumb at the side of her mouth. She presses it through her lips to touch her teeth, and Trixie whines, licks it, her hips twitch and her ass rubs against Katya’s thighs. Katya’s other hand grips it tight, fingers right between her cheeks over the fabric, Trixie keeps bucking back against them and she keeps sliding them further up Trixie’s back in retaliation.

Trixie is getting overwhelmed, Katya is relentlessly kissing her and pulling her thumb out of her mouth, trailing it over to her earlobe still wet and cold, pinching it between it and her pointer finger. Trixie whines and yanks on Katya’s curls, and then Katya is breaking the kiss, pushing her off her lap and gripping her hand, pulling her to the doorway. Trixie trails behind her and then she’s being shoved to the side, into the dark bathroom, and Katya’s hand is sweaty in hers, she slams the door shut behind them. 

“What, what,” Trixie is panting, between her nap, the broken kiss, and the chaos she’s dizzy and leaning against the wall by the sink, Katya’s fingers still tight around hers, it’s pitch black but for the candle resting on top of the toilet. 

“Your mom,” Katya is panting, too, and Trixie can see a bead of sweat drip down her pointed nose in the dim light. She pulls Katya to her, then, can’t stand how her hair shines, and Katya pins her against the wall so hard, with her hands on her shoulders, pressing so that her bones ache. Trixie moans and her jaw unhinges, Katya slides her tongue inside.

“Katya, Katya,” Trixie whines, Katya’s teeth are scraping down her jaw, her neck, and her nose is in her cleavage, pressing red kisses to her breasts. She bites down with a open mouth and slides her tongue across between her teeth, Trixie pushing her chest up, on her tiptoes, so that Katya’s teeth dig in harder. 

“Shhhh, baby, gotta be quiet,” Katya says into her skin. Trixie whimpers but keeps her lips closed, and then Katya is reaching behind her and unzipping her dress, peeling it down and off her body, taking her thong with it. Trixie is naked against the bathroom wall and Katya steps back, looks her up and down. Trixie rocks back and forth on the balls of her feet, her breaths are hitching and she’s wet down her thighs for Katya again, Katya takes her hips in hand and slides her fingers down her thighs, squeezing and pinching so that Trixie spreads them apart a little. 

“I can’t,” Trixie whines, when Katya pinches her and looks her up and down she can’t do it, can’t keep her lips shut and can’t bite them to stop it. Katya straightens up from where she’s bent and puts a hand over her mouth, covering her lips shut. Her palm is dry and soft, Trixie’s eyes roll back into her head, and then Katya’s other hand is pushing fingers inside her, so slowly, pumping two in and out, Trixie is so wet and they can both hear it, how sticky it is. Trixie sobs against Katya’s hand as she twists her fingers up and to the side.

“I was gonna eat you out, but you can’t take that, can you?” Katya whispers against her hand covering Trixie’s mouth. Trixie shakes her head, eyelashes fluttering, and Katya’s thumb slides over her clit just once. “Can’t reach all the way up here to keep your big mouth shut.”

Trixie’s head falls back against the wall and she’s so high-strung, tight in her stomach, she’s going to come with Katya’s head right there, eyes on hers, she’s making that deadly eye contact and Trixie is just melting under it, Trixie is about to come around Katya’s fingers twisting and pushing inside her, her thumb rubbing against her clit so fast now, her head is spinning. Katya kisses her nose, then, just plush lips on her skin and Trixie gasps, coughs into Katya’s hand as she’s coming. 

Katya lets go of her face and holds her up against the wall so she doesn’t collapse, kisses her and pumps her gently through it.

And then she’s wiping Trixie down with a damp washcloth and dropping it into the bathtub, handing her her thong and dress and helping her slide them back on, strong hands pulling and zipping. And they’re standing across from each other again, Katya’s lipstick is ruined. 

“Do you want to?” Katya is looking at her, and she looks insecure for a second, and Trixie nods quickly, smiles, she’s still a little dizzy but she wants to, wants to drive the two hours to the city in the back seat of Katya’s chauffeur's car, to stay with her for the rest of the week. “Your mom doesn’t know?”

“She’s okay with it, she doesn’t know, she’s obtuse, Katya,” Trixie is taking her by the hand, pulling the door open. The hallway is empty and Trixie brings Katya up to her room, less frantic and less confused than a week ago, and she heaves her overnight bag Katya had instructed her to pack over her shoulder, ignores Katya’s hand held out to carry it. The party is still going on and Trixie has never been so grateful to her mother, for giving birth to her and for meeting Katya and for setting out that ashtray for her on the kitchen table. Fuck.

They sneak down and out the back door, to the driveway where other people are leaving and Katya leads her to her car, instructs the man in the front seat to open the trunk so Trixie can swing her bag inside. Katya slams the trunk shut and Trixie takes a quick minute to watch her arms, and then Katya is sliding her inside onto the leather seats. 

Katya lets her lay across the seats, rest her head in her lap, facing up to her but Trixie’s eyes are closing a little, Katya is taking out her phone and reading her messages, hands holding it over Trixie’s face. She hums every once in a while and her left hand eventually moves to Trixie’s hair, absentmindedly playing with her blonde waves.

The gentle tugging and the rumble of the car rocks Trixie to sleep, sprawled over Katya and cool leather, her hand loosely gripping Katya’s warm skin right under her knee. Trixie keeps waking up just a little during the ride, she sees Katya smoking out the window, feels her hand on her cheek, hears her make a phone call. Her gray hair shines in the moonlight and the light of the city and the dark of the night. And then Katya is gently rubbing her thumb across Trixie’s lips, and they’re pulled into the lot for Katya’s penthouse. 

Trixie huffs in waking, lets Katya hold her hand all the way through the lot, her heels clacking against the concrete, echoing. Katya leans on her shoulder next to Trixie in the elevator, her bare skin against the clean mirror, watches Trixie with a soft smile, and when it stops at her floor she picks up Trixie’s bag, carries it into her entryway and to the modern living room with the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. 

Trixie will be blown away by it in the morning, but right now Katya is pulling her gently to the bedroom, setting her down on the bathroom counter to wipe her makeup off. Trixie is half asleep and Katya hums off-key as she does it, and then she’s unzipping Trixie’s dress and helping her out of it, wiping her own makeup off and pulling her hair up into a tight bun. She strips and takes Trixie to bed, her sheets are plush and soft and Trixie is dead to the world the moment she hits the pillow.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you good with modeling them for me?” She whispers into Trixie’s ear, through her hair. It tickles, Trixie shivers and blushes and nods, and Katya pulls back to grin at her. Her hair is tangling with Trixie’s, gray and blonde, and Trixie can feel the implications of them being here, Katya paying for her, hot in her gut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 3!! special thanks to all my friends, you know who you are, and all of everyone who's ever messaged me about this fic! the support and love has been amazing i love you all <3 and HAPPY PRIDE <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 i know that it's been pride month for forever but this past weekend was pride weekend for me and it propelled me to finish this! love you all. [and take a look at these pics for a little moodboard ;)](https://fleursverts.tumblr.com/post/162259731418/the-first-one-read-are-you-good-by-campholmes)

Trixie wakes up in Katya’s big bed, drowning in pillows and sheets. The sun is bright through the gray curtains over the window, and Trixie can see the outlines of the buildings through the fabric. Katya must either wake up with the sunrise or be able to sleep through the bright light, Trixie’s eyes ache and she needs to close them despite the curtains being drawn.

It’s quiet in the penthouse, Katya is missing from her side, and Trixie lets herself lie there for a few minutes, stretch her legs and arms out, rub the sleep from her eyes. Her hair is tangled against the pillow, she always hates forgetting to pull it up before bed. It’s too long, too thick, sometimes she wakes up in the middle of the night with blonde strands over her eyes, nose, and mouth and panics that she’s suffocating. 

Trixie gets up, tries to run fingers through her curls to get them tamed but gives up, lets them fall across her back. Katya will have a brush somewhere, hopefully. Katya. 

Katya who let her sleep all over her in the car, Katya who set her on the bathroom counter to wipe her makeup off for bedtime with strong fingers, long strokes. Katya who walked her to the bed with an arm tight around her waist. Trixie doesn’t _want_ to be confused by it. Katya obviously likes her, she calls her every day and talks to her for hours, and Trixie isn’t going to delude herself and say that she doesn’t like that. She likes it a lot, she wants it, wants Katya to be hung up on her, wants Katya to want her, to be desperate for her.

Because Trixie likes Katya right back. And last night in the car she had wanted to turn to press a kiss to Katya’s stomach, had fallen asleep with Katya’s fingers in her hair. 

Katya is sitting at the kitchen island with a laptop and a mug of coffee, in nothing but comfy black underwear. When Trixie comes in she turns, smiles at her and greets her, gestures lazily to the counter where there’s a basket of fruit and pastries set out. They’re both full, and Trixie’s eyes boggle a little at the sheer amount of food Katya’s bought fresh. She pours herself coffee and grabs an orange, sits in the chair across from Katya and peels it methodically, looking out of the huge windows to the city.

Katya closes her laptop and looks up at Trixie, smiles a little. 

“Good morning,” Trixie smiles back. Katya looks so pretty in the morning without makeup, her gray hair is damp from her shower and her eyes are scanning over Trixie’s face, where she’s sure that she still has faded eyeliner streaks, over her tangled, frizzy hair.

“You wanna explore today?” Katya grins across the cool granite countertop, eyes and nose crinkling up. Trixie nods through her section of orange, lick her lips. Katya watches her tongue. Katya spreads her hands on the island, hops off her chair, and her bare breasts bounce as her feet hit the ground. “Let’s leave in an hour!” She calls back to Trixie, who is sipping her coffee still. Trixie finds the compost for the orange peel and finishes her coffee, then follows Katya back into the bedroom to get ready.

Katya is doing her makeup all through Trixie’s shower, puttering around in the bathroom cabinets, humming to herself if she messes up her eyeshadow. It’s nice, Trixie sliding expensive, organic soap all over her body in the shower with the perfect water pressure as Katya gets ready for the day outside. Trixie uses Katya’s fancy shampoo and conditioner, washes her hair while combing through it with her fingers to untangle it a bit.

“You’re pretty, all flushed,” Katya whispers as Trixie wraps herself in a soft white towel, dries herself off. 

“You too,” Katya’s chest is pink with the steam from the shower, and Katya smiles at Trixie’s words, looks down to the sink.

Katya watches her in the mirror and Trixie knows that she’s telling her about the city, where they’ll be going, but Trixie isn’t listening, she’s brushing through her long strands and watching Katya’s breasts, her stomach, her arms in the mirror. Katya’s hair has dried and she’s wearing dark red lips, she’s barely contoured and she’s smeared blush across her cheekbones so she’s glowing.

Trixie uses Katya’s makeup because she can’t be bothered to unpack her bag right now, not while her back has relaxed nicely from the shower, not while Katya is mumbling on and on about stores and restaurants. Katya has the strangest mix of drugstore and high-end makeup, and it confuses Trixie but also it makes so much sense, she can imagine Katya telling her driver to pull over at Walgreens quick so she can get some cheap blush on the way home from a dinner party, walking into the fluorescent blue lighting in a gown and Louboutins, a little drunk on wine.

They get dressed in the bedroom, Katya pulling on tight black jeans and a black shirt with a deep v, so that her lacy black bra is visible, and then Trixie’s eyes boggle as she pulls on bright red jellies with a chunky platform, Trixie can smell the plastic from across the room. Katya sees her staring and laughs, clips them on, kicks a heel up as far as she can in the jeans. 

“What the fuck,” Trixie laughs, and Katya giggles, almost falling over in them, grabbing onto the door frame to regain her balance.

“They’re comfy!” She yells, and then she’s out in the living room, screeching with laughter. Trixie pulls her skirt on and grabs her purse, follows Katya down to the car. 

Trixie’s never been rich herself, but she’s known plenty of rich people. She’s known enough of them to know that Katya isn’t a typical one, even though she does seem to be heinously rich and careless enough with her funds for Trixie to understand that there’re a lot of them. She doesn’t seem to care about brands enough to feel self-conscious in platform jellies, doesn’t seem to worry about using cheap makeup products but then has ridiculously expensive shampoo, lives in a penthouse in New York City instead of whatever opulent mansion she was raised in. 

Trixie likes it. Katya laughs the whole way through the car ride, keeps grabbing Trixie by the arm in delight. Trixie watches her from the other seat, laughs along as Katya points out her favorite stores and tells stories about almost every street corner.

Katya was, apparently, a stuck-up NYU chem student with her parent’s expectations of intellectualism and good grades digging deep into her shoulders, bending her over so that her back ached with the weight of her leather bookbag on the subway every morning. And then she had taken one astronomy class in sophomore year and decided to switch, much to her parent’s screaming chagrin.

But she had stood her ground, and had promised them that she’d be a professor at some point, and they had caved. So she had gone on to “shoot the shit” in her astronomy classes, which were “easy” and “fun.” Trixie spends a lot of time rolling her eyes at Katya with her head thrown back against soft leather, and then Katya takes her hand halfway through the drive with a tiny smile, warm, familiar fingers wrapping around Trixie’s. Trixie smiles back, runs her thumb across Katya’s knuckles.

-

Trixie squints as they pull up to the lingerie boutique. She isn’t surprised, though, and when Katya climbs out of her seat still holding Trixie’s hand she follows, stumbling over the curb, making Katya giggle. Trixie is already fucking blushing, and something tells her that she won’t stop blushing until the day is over.

“Come on,” Katya laughs, yanks her inside. The shop is luxurious almost to the extreme, white walls and perfectly engineered lighting, and Katya is pulling her along to the counter where a skinny white-blonde woman is standing, filing her nails in the definition of extreme boredom.

But as Katya clomps up to the register, the woman’s eyes flit up and she drops her file to the ground, almost stands at attention, her eyes widening. Trixie stifles her giggle behind her hand, looks at the ground so that she doesn’t have to gawk at the lanky, nervous figure behind the white desk.

“H- hello Katya!” The woman is actually smiling a little, her big green eyes scanning over Trixie, probably analyzing her every curve to try to fit her in a lacy bra and thong.

“Good morning Max, I’m here with Trixie, and I was hoping we could get her to try a few pieces on, pink is her favorite color, as you can see, you think you have anything pretty for these massive knockers? And this _incredible_ ass?” Katya’s hand is still loose around hers, pinching Trixie’s fingertips. Trixie laughs at her, how she’s holding out her hand to display Trixie’s body jokingly. 

“Of course we do,” Max has some kind of general accent, Trixie is certain that it’s fake, but she seems nice enough, so she follows when Max leads them to the back of the store, behind an entryway that opens into a fitting room with massive, circular paneled mirrors. Katya sits on a tiny loveseat in the corner, and it’s all ridiculously fancy and rich, Trixie has no clue how Katya can be a regular customer here but she did recognize Katya’s black lace bras out in the front of the store. She can already tell that Katya is a lingerie freak from how she’s grinning up at Trixie, patting the couch next to her. Trixie sits and Katya’s hand is immediately around her waist, pulling her in.

“Are you good with modeling them for me?” She whispers into Trixie’s ear, through her hair. It tickles, Trixie shivers and blushes and nods, and Katya pulls back to grin at her. Her hair is tangling with Trixie’s, gray and blonde, and Trixie can feel the implications of them being here, Katya paying for her, hot in her gut. Katya kisses her softly on the lips, still smiling, and Max comes in the room almost dropping all of the bras and underwear on the ground just with the way she’s moving, clumsy and gangly. 

“I, um, I have some here, we can fit you but I’m pretty certain of your size, well, I have three options here,” Trixie nods, stands to take the first bra and thong from her. God, they’re so delicate, pink and covered in tiny sewn hearts, so intricate and _expensive_ that Trixie almost feels like her hands are too dirty to touch them. Almost.

“Thank you, Max, how about you see if it fits her and then we go from there,” Katya says from the couch, she’s taken out her phone and is replying to texts as Trixie strips in front of both of them, puts on the bra with Max’s help. When she turns from facing Max to Katya, her eyes are burning into her skin, and Trixie can’t help but blush.

Katya is nodding, jiggling her foot, and Max is humming behind her, adjusting straps and pulling, poking at hooks and her skin beneath the fabric. Trixie’s nipples are hard through the transparent pink cups, and Katya licks her lips the tiniest bit, smirks up at Trixie through her lashes. Her phone is buzzing on the couch next to her, and Trixie watches as she turns it off and stuffs it back into her purse.

Max steps away to let her pull on the thong, and it fits her perfectly, just like the bra. Max is a magician, probably, she picked the right size on the first try, and Trixie turns to look at herself in the mirror. She’s never looked so good in lingerie before, and she can see Katya staring at her ass in the mirror in front of her, she wants to whimper with it but then Max is saying something, leaving the room to go pick out other items that are Trixie’s correct size.

“You like it, baby?” Katya asks, and Trixie blushes, nods at her in the mirror as she adjusts the straps a little bit. Katya smirks over at her, her eyes still scanning Trixie’s body. “I’m getting you that one for sure,” she says, and Trixie turns to face her again just as Max comes back in the room.

Trixie tries on set after set, Katya goes out into the store to pick stockings and garter belts and Max never ceases to be nervous but Katya is treating it like they’re going on a thrift store shopping spree, giggling at patterns and begging Trixie to try on more ridiculous matching combinations with endless clasps and gymnastics for putting them on.

And Katya sits on the couch the whole time, legs crossed, staring up at Trixie through her lashes, twirling her finger to get Trixie to spin for her, show her her ass in thongs, and Trixie just wants to climb on top of her, kiss her silly, get her fingers twisting past expensive lace to rub against her, slide inside her, Trixie wants to arch her back so that their breasts are touching, rubbing together through layers. The tension in the room reaches a high once Trixie has left her embarrassment somewhere between the third and fourth bra, and Katya is helping her pull on yet another pair of stockings, clipping them to the pink garter belt with hot fingers. She’s humming along to the quiet music, and Max is arranging the items Katya has okayed in the corner.

“Leg up,” Katya says, wraps her hand under Trixie’s knee and pulls up gently so that her foot is on the velvet couch, and then her fingers are tracing up Trixie’s calf, guiding the delicate pink nylon up, Trixie’s eyes follow the tiny bow and Katya’s tan fingers up her own leg and then her thigh, Trixie is burning with Katya’s hand on her skin.

“Do you like them?” Trixie’s eyes lock with Katya’s and she’s gesturing down at the stockings, back over at the pile that Max is still arranging into individual boxes. She looks nervous, maybe, but then it disappears and she’s back, heavy eyelids and enlarged pupils, her hand on Trixie’s thigh. She squeezes and Trixie squeaks. Max doesn’t turn around.

“I love them, thank you,” Trixie whispers, and she kisses the corner of Katya’s wide grin. Katya laughs brightly, smacks her thigh a little so that Trixie jumps. Trixie lets Katya pull her legs around to put on the other stocking, and then her hand is on the small of Trixie’s back, guiding her to the mirror.

Katya brings her other hand to Trixie’s stomach, digs her fingers in so Trixie shivers, and they’re both standing in front of the mirror, looking at each other. Katya is her same height, again, with her shoes, and Trixie’s stocking feet next to Katya’s are making her stomach swirl, how they look in the mirror standing next to each other is somehow overwhelming, Trixie in a strappy pink bra with tiny silk butterflies around the cups and along the edge of her thong, pink stockings, and Katya fully dressed in black, her gray hair a little tangled from how she keeps running her hands through it. 

“Beautiful,” Katya announces, twirling Trixie around, tearing her eyes away from the reflective glass back to where Max is waiting with the last set. “This one, too.”

Trixie can’t look at the price tags, they’re tiny little pink pieces of paper looped around the straps with silky thread, because she’s sure that all of them are many hundreds of dollars. And Katya has decided on five bras for her, each with a matching thong, belt, and stockings. Trixie wants to die, a little bit, because Katya is so _excited_ to spend so much on her, she’s so fucking turned on by it and Trixie can see it in her eyes. Katya keeps crossing and uncrossing her legs, gripping the arm of the couch, watching Trixie with bedroom eyes as she makes her bend and twirl.

“Here’s the last one,” Max passes her a cream bra, with little tufts of lace peeking above the wire cups. Trixie pulls it on over her bare breasts that Katya can no longer pretend not to be looking at, and slips on the matching thong, too. Katya is biting down on her lip, she’s about to snap, and Trixie arches her back and turns on her own, without Katya needing to signal her to. And then Katya is stifling a moan, standing up on both feet and nodding frantically at Max, pulling Trixie to her by the hand and unclasping the bra, gingerly taking it off and handing it to Max, pulling down the thong and patting Trixie’s ankles so that she steps out of it and her stockings.

“This too,” Katya is choking on her words and Max takes the items silently, Katya’s hand is on her bare ass, then, squeezing so that Trixie whimpers, and then Max isn’t in the room anymore and Katya’s hands are on both of her breasts, squeezing so tight that Trixie gasps, and she’s pushing Trixie down to her knees and unzipping her fly, yanking down her jeans and underwear and sitting on the couch, legs spread, hand heavy on the back of Trixie’s head, pulling her towards her.

Trixie moans loudly just at the sight of her, neatly trimmed and soaking wet, and Katya pulls her close so that her mouth is on her, and she eats Katya out completely naked on the hardwood floor of the dressing room. 

After Katya comes (it takes minutes, Trixie wants to melt from how much Katya was turned on by her modeling the lingerie), she pulls tissues out of her purse and wipes Trixie’s soaking face, kisses her nose, and then she’s standing, pulling Trixie up by the hand, handing her her clothes from where they’re folded on a chair. Trixie dresses quickly and ignores her own arousal, follows Katya on trembling legs out to the front of the store where Max has packed all of their boxes in paper bags, and she’s pulling out her card to pay. 

Katya turns to the side to grin at Trixie when she stands next to her, and Trixie misses the price total in the shuffle. Katya winks at her, though, and Max swipes her card no problem, nods when Katya says she wants an email receipt.

“I feel like a hooker,” Trixie mumbles as they exit. Katya’s hand is on the small of her back, her fingers hot against the top of her butt, and Trixie is blushing again, carrying a bag in each hand as Katya carries three. The car is waiting for them, Katya guides her gently to the trunk where the driver takes the bags from her, gives her a warm smile. He doesn’t talk much, but he seems nice enough. His silence shows how rich Katya is more than anything else, in Trixie’s opinion.

“Baby,” Katya soothes, pulling her by the hand through the open door. “You aren’t a hooker!” Trixie can hear how she’s trying not to laugh and she wants to scream, a little, wants to yank the bags out of the trunk and return them right now, Katya hot on her heels. She’d never be able to catch her, in those godawful platforms. 

“I feel like one, though,” Trixie crosses her arms, pulls her lip back in from where it’s sticking out. And then Katya’s fingers are against her lips, two of them pressing the skin hard against her teeth and Trixie’s mouth is opening involuntarily, two fingers slipping in and resting on her tongue.

“Shhhhh,” Katya whispers in her ear, she’s all up against Trixie’s side on the seat, thigh hot against hers. The partition is up but Trixie’s eyes still flit to where she can see the faint outline of the driver’s head and his messy blonde hair. She can feel a twinge in her stomach, Katya’s fingers filling her up and shutting her up. She’s starting to drool, a little, because Katya is pulling them out slowly and pushing them back in again, over and over, without a specific rhythm, and then her other hand is trailing over Trixie’s bare thigh and reaching up to her underwear where she’s wet through the cotton, rubbing her slowly. Trixie whimpers around her fingers.

“Baby, you’re not a hooker,” Katya mumbles into her ear. Her breath is hot and minty from her gum, Trixie wants to kiss her to taste it, but Katya’s fingers taste like the smell of the shop, the velvet of the couch, her skin. “I don’t want you to ever think that again,” Katya kisses her earlobe through her curtain of hair and Trixie shivers. 

She’s drooling down her chin, now, Katya’s fingers are still pumping in and out of her and she’s still rubbing against Trixie’s clit, Trixie could come at any second since the day has been so long, she’s had so much build-up, and then Katya’s fingers are pulling out of her mouth and she’s wiping up Trixie’s drool with a little hum that makes Trixie’s hips jerk as she comes, Katya clamping her wet hand over her mouth to stifle her yelp.

Katya keeps rubbing her through her orgasm until Trixie’s eyes roll back, and then she keeps her hand over her mouth, turns her head to look her in the eyes.

“Okay?” Trixie nods and Katya takes her hand off her mouth only to replace it gently with her soft red lips for a moment. “Good,” she smiles to herself, pulls more tissues out of her purse to wipe her hand off. 

And then the ride is over and Katya’s hand is tangled in Trixie’s again and she’s pulling her out the door, yanking her across the sidewalk in almost childlike excitement, gray curls bobbing behind her, into the door of the restaurant they’ve stopped at.

The host knows Katya, of course, his eyes boggle a little as Katya clambers in with Trixie in tow. He has two tiny menus in hand before Trixie can blink and he’s forcing a smile, holding out a hand to lead them to a table. Trixie sits across from Katya next to heavy red curtains that separate them from the other tables, in the far back corner with a little crystal chandelier hanging overhead, making rainbow polka-dots on the thick fabric enveloping them.

Katya pushes Trixie’s menu towards her but doesn’t touch her own, the little candle in the middle of the table has been lit, flickering against the white tablecloth that Trixie lifts her menu from. Katya’s pulled out her phone and is texting again, but then she turns it off and her hands are digging around in her purse, pulling out her silver case and lighter. She sets them on the table and smiles across at Trixie. Her cheekbones are softer in the low light, the orange glow. The candle is reflecting in her eyes.

“Wanna wash up quick?” Trixie nods, laughs at the idea of Katya’s fingers with her drying saliva on them, and she follows Katya to the chic bathroom. They pee and Katya spends a ridiculous amount of time analyzing the line of her lips in the mirror. Trixie stands and watches her, how her reflection is mirroring her making her two, her arms and face flipped, her eyes dark in the low lighting. And then she’s dabbing more lipstick on after Trixie’s washed her face, turning to Trixie to grin widely at her, shrug in question if she’s finished, and they’re back in the silent restaurant. A bread basket and two appetizer plates have been set out for them on the table in their absence.

“I already know what I’m getting, get whatever,” Katya says around her cigarette. Trixie nods and looks down to her menu, the prices are listed and she’s getting a headache just from the tiny numbers in pseudo-cursive, she’s going to die. The food must be really fucking good for Katya to have a usual here despite the prices.

“What do you get?” Trixie hisses, she can see the waiter coming around the corner with two glasses and a bottle of red wine, she’s panicking because she doesn’t eat meat and she’s sure that she told Katya that? But then she spots the only salad on the menu and decides to order it at the last second. Katya lights her cigarette and takes an endless drag just as the waiter reaches the table. And then she pulls out her handheld mirror and starts to analyze her eye makeup in it.

“Good afternoon, ladies, I have this picked for you, your usual, um, as usual, and I’m assuming that you will have your usual entrée, Ms. Zamolodchikova?” He gets Kaya’s name perfect on the first try, and Trixie can imagine him red-faced in his tiny studio apartment repeating it over and over and over so as to not offend their most important customer. 

And Katya doesn’t respond. She blows smoke into the curtain, still looking at her makeup, yanking on a lash and swiping up eyeshadow from where it’s gone into her crow’s feet. Trixie wants to melt into the floor. Katya taps the ash onto the fucking bread plate, then, and both Trixie and the waiter stare at her in wonder.

Then the waiter is taking her silence as confirmation, and he turns to Trixie with a sweaty forehead and rattles off the specials as Trixie is half watching him and half flicking her eyes to where Katya has set her mirror down and is staring at her, sucking in smoke heavily. 

“Ma’am?” Trixie rips the eye contact apart, stares up at him. She somehow manages to stammer out the name of the salad and he nods, gulps, and then he’s gone in an instant. Katya taps more ash onto the bread plate.

“You having a good day, baby?” She asks, her eyes crinkling. Trixie rolls her eyes, Katya’s sure picked a good time to be goofy, to tease her, and she hates to admit that she likes it, likes how Katya’s smoking inside illegally, how she’s ignoring the nervous waiter, how careless she is. Trixie isn’t going to lie and pretend that it isn’t hot. 

“Yeah,” Trixie grins. Katya’s smile grows, and then her hand is reaching across the table and gripping Trixie’s for a few seconds. When she tries to pull back Trixie won’t let her go, entwines their fingers on the luxe tablecloth. Katya’s smile turns into a tiny little grin of satisfaction, her brows lower and her cheekbones stick out. Trixie blushes.

“You just got a salad, you gotta fill up on dessert, then,” Katya says, squeezing her fingers. Trixie blushes harder, looks down at the candle. Katya is still smiling at her when she looks back up. “You want cheesecake?” Trixie laughs a little at how excited she is, nods. 

When the waiter comes back with Katya’s steak and Trixie’s salad he sets the plates down silently, ignoring Trixie’s tiny “Thank you,” leaving as quickly as he can after refilling their glasses. Katya giggles into her hand, gulps down her wine, and soon enough they’re both pleasantly drunk at lunchtime, Katya’s cheeks are flushed and they’re both laughing on and on about the restaurant and how silent it is, Trixie can see out the curtain to the other couples that are whispering to each other across tables and her and Katya are laughing outright, making a scene, and somehow two slices of cheesecake are being set in front of them.

Katya takes a chunk off of Trixie’s cake with her fork and Trixie gasps in indignation, but then Katya’s fork is right up in her face, holding the dessert out in front of her. Trixie is blushing again, and it’s not from the wine or Katya’s jokes anymore, now it’s for how Katya wants to feed her sweet cake with her fork, with heavy lashes in the dim light.

Trixie whimpers and then opens her mouth, lets Katya slide the fork inside, closes around it so that Katya pulls the silver out from her lips with a smirk. Trixie lets it melt on her tongue, smiles around it, moans a little at how good it is. Katya’s eyes lower to her breasts in her top, and they’re silent for the rest of the meal.

-

Katya has meetings during the week, and she leaves Trixie in the penthouse with the instructions that she can leave whenever, go wherever, do whatever. So Trixie goes out and gets ice cream, reads in Central Park, lies out on the roof of the building and tans. And Katya still calls her on her lunch break every day, and Trixie will laze about and talk to her, listen to her process the events of the day in quick, detached speech.

Katya calls her from her office on Tuesday to talk her off over the phone, her voice low and muffled, Trixie whining on the other end. Katya tells Trixie to stuff herself with three fingers, to make it burn and Trixie whines so loud that Katya needs to shush her, says that people can likely hear her from outside her office door. That only makes the heat in Trixie’s gut expand, so she’s moaning quietly into the pillow, rubbing herself and thrusting in, the loud speakerphone echoing Katya’s sharp voice in her ears. 

And when she comes Katya says “Good girl,” and Trixie sobs, squeezing her eyes shut.

When Trixie picks up the phone and Katya’s voice is low, gravely, she’ll rub her stomach slowly until Katya whispers something about wanting to hear her, wishing she could see her. Trixie somehow gets used to waking up in the mornings with Katya’s alarm, a soft kiss with closed mouths, the running of the shower and zipping up of pants or dresses, spraying large swaths of perfume, and then just fucking around until Katya comes back, takes her out to dinner or asks shyly ( _shyly!_ ) if Trixie could maybe make them dinner because she’s such a terrible cook, and _then_ getting fucked by Katya in either the big bed or with bare breasts pressed up against the window in the living room, or with Katya on her knees on the kitchen floor. 

Trixie still doesn’t know what to think of it, really, doesn’t know what to decide about her job, about how invested Katya seems to be. Trixie thinks that she might be invested, too, with Katya’s big laugh and small breasts, with her pretty hair and crow’s feet. But she’s a little terrified to think about it, what it would mean to genuinely, seriously date her mother’s forty-five year old friend and probably, based on how it’s going so far, move into her massive penthouse in New York City. 

And then on Friday Katya has a bad day at work.

She texts Trixie after her first meeting, _Need to be home with you_ and Trixie can feel how upset she is from the sheer vibe of the message. Trixie texts back immediately, _Are you okay? I miss you too_ , and forces herself to not think of the implications of her words, especially when it’s the gospel truth. She misses her.

Katya doesn’t respond and Trixie leaves her empty coffee mug on the table at the coffee shop she’s been visiting every once in a while, starts the short walk back to the building. The doorman knows her, smiles and lets her in, and the key to Katya’s penthouse jangles in her fingers. Katya texts her back when she’s in the elevator, and she waits until she’s sprawled out on the couch to read it.

 _Want to see you_ , it says, the tiny gray bubble. Trixie already feels heat trickling down her thighs, curling her toes. Katya starts typing again but then the bubbles disappear.

 _Okay_ , Trixie responds, and then Katya is typing back again immediately.

 _Send me a video_ , the message reads. Trixie moans out loud, slides a shuddering breath in through her nose. She’s half-naked before even thinking about it, unbuttoning her top and pulling it off, almost unclasping her bra before realizing she wants it on for a little bit more, but she pulls her thong off with her skirt, lets them both fall to the floor. 

And then she’s checking the lighting in the living room, on the couch, and finding the perfect position, propping the phone on the pillows so that it just records her from the shoulders down. She’s already wet and she doesn’t think to talk to the camera, just starts to rub herself and slide fingers over her nipples in the dainty bra. Her legs are spread and she’s kneeling, she knows Katya will drool over her thighs, and the idea of Katya watching this video in her office, lights low and headphones turned all the way up, rubbing herself with a hand down her skirt and tights, is almost too much, makes her eyes roll back.

Trixie lets her hair fall over her breasts as she unclasps the bra slowly, lets them spill nude out of the wire and tiny pink heart-patterned cups. She pinches her nipples and whines, and it isn’t even for show but it makes her remember how much Katya likes it when she whimpers, sobs, so she lets it all fall from her lips.

She comes thinking about Katya’s face, sitting on her cheekbones, and sends the video off with a winky face.

_Fuck_  
_Fuck you_  
_God, beautiful._  
_You’re doing this again when I get home._

-

“Sit down,” Katya says through smoke. Trixie’s in the same new bra and thong, she’s trying to stop the shivers up her spine. Katya’s turned the lights on dim, in the dark night, the buildings next to them can see in for sure, and Trixie is already wet with it.

“Okay,” Trixie whines. She sits on the couch in front of where Katya stands, in her work clothes, severe black blazer and white shirt she’d unbuttoned halfway down the minute she walked in the front door, black pencil skirt that’s so tight, her tiny ass popped out with how the ball of her foot is on the coffee table, nylon against cool glass. Trixie bets it feels good against Katya’s sore foot, she’s seen Katya come home and whine as she pulls off her heels one too many times for her to like what they do to her calves anymore. 

“You were so bad, teasing me with that video today, I didn’t think you’d do it,” Katya whispers. Trixie whimpers a little.

Katya is blowing smoke through her nose, resting her chin on her hand, elbow on her propped knee. She still has her clear-framed glasses on and her gray curls are darker in the dim light, framing her face. She looks unreal hot, she’s the professor fantasy Trixie’s always dreamed of. Trixie sits on the couch, thighs clamped together. Katya is blinking down at her, and she must be tired if she didn’t put in her contacts this morning, she looks severe and cold, but Trixie can see through her heavy lashes and glasses how her eyes are sparkling.

“Spread your legs,” Katya exhales. Her voice is gravelly with a day’s worth of meetings, and smoke is falling from her lips lazily. Trixie is so wet and she can’t get her thighs to open, she feels embarrassment high in her skull, her cheeks must be so red. Katya’s eyes darken as Trixie shifts her hips on the cushion.

“Spread ‘em,” Katya’s Boston accent is shining through more than it ever has, and Trixie knows that she’s going to fuck her hard with how tired she is, she had a bad day at work, Trixie should listen to her, should spread her legs. God, Katya’s fingers are clenching around her own wrist.

Trixie spreads her legs slowly, and Katya’s eyes slide up and down her body greedily. Trixie’s pink thong is completely soaked, she’s shiny with wetness and Katya smirks down at her, eyes on her hips and how she’s dripping onto the couch, fuck, Trixie can feel it sliding back between her cheeks and she can feel the couch wet beneath her. Katya takes a long drag, keeping her eyes on her.

Trixie sits there with her legs spread for so long, Katya just standing and smoking above her, Trixie’s fingers are itching to touch herself. But Katya is just staring and Trixie’s spine is tickling with it, she wants Katya’s fingers in her mouth, wants her on her knees in front of her.

“Take your bra off,” Katya says. Her voice is so steady, like she doesn’t care what Trixie does, Trixie could get up and leave and Katya wouldn’t even notice. 

“Katya,” Trixie squirms under her gaze. She’s got a loose curl hanging down in front of her eyes and she leaves it there, just keeps watching. Trixie is going to die. Katya leans forward a little more, shifting her weight onto her foot on the table. Trixie can feel her breasts lift up towards Katya, she arches her back and Katya smirks a little. Trixie whines again, and Katya’s smirk falls.

“Shhhh, baby, you gotta listen, take it off,” Katya sucks in smoke, french inhales, and Trixie reaches behind her back with fumbling fingers to unhook the bra, the ridiculously expensive, dainty bra that Katya bought her, the heat is pooling in her gut, Katya sighs smoke out of her nose so slowly. 

“Okay,” Trixie brings the bra off of her shoulders, down her arms, lets her breasts pop out and fall down, and Katya hums deep in her throat at it. 

“Baby, now you have to stand up, slide that thong off,” Katya’s voice is deep with arousal, and Trixie can’t stand up ‘cause she’s going to fall, her legs are shaky from how far she’s been spreading her thighs. Katya stares down at her straight-faced, waiting, she’s so patient and it’s killing Trixie, making her ache so bad, how Katya looks on with disinterest. She can’t help it, she wants to be good for her, she wants to make Katya scream and she wants Katya to lay her down a fuck her hard, wants Katya to sit on her face, suffocating her. 

“Katya, I-”

“Shut up, you heard me,” Katya stamps out the butt in the ashtray by her foot. Trixie whimpers again and Katya isn’t even watching her anymore, her eyes are on her own fingers lighting her next cigarette, the orange flame reflecting on the lenses of her glasses. “Be good for me,” she says around it, and Trixie stands on wobbly ankles to pull her thong down slowly, she can feel how cold the climate-controlled air is on her bare pussy, she’s so wet, and Katya’s eyes flit to see how she’s shining in the dim lamplight. She’s smirking again.

“Baby,” Katya is talking in that patronizing voice again, the one that could get Trixie off all on it’s own. Her words go right down Trixie’s chest to her stomach, and she just stands there, waiting for Katya to tell her what to do again, now their eyes are more level but Trixie feels like she’s still sitting spread on the couch. She wants Katya to tell her to spread her legs again, wants Katya to look down at her, bare, wet, and desperate, wants her to do absolutely nothing about it. Trixie needs it.

Katya nods down at the couch, and Trixie lets her ass fall down, pulls her thighs apart again, and she can hear how wet she is now that she’s completely naked, Katya grins down at her, around her cigarette, at how good she’s being. Trixie’s hands are clenched in fists, at her sides, she doesn’t know what to do with them and she knows that if she puts them on her body she’s not going to be able to stop herself from touching herself, rubbing off so that Katya climbs over the table and pulls her hands away, snaps at her to keep her hands off. 

“Katya,” Trixie whispers, the woman in question is looking out the window behind Trixie, smoking slowly, like she rarely does, and then she lets out a big yawn. Trixie’s thigh twitches. Katya’s eyes snap down to her at her name.

“Katya,” she mocks, repeats her own name in an exaggerated whine, and Trixie whimpers, blushes all the way down her chest at it, she can’t keep still, Katya’s eyes are dark. “Baby, listen,” she says, bringing her cigarette away from her face. “Touch yourself slowly.”

Trixie wants to, wants to listen, she unclenches her hands and grips her thighs, looking up at Katya questioningly. She nods, watches her quietly, her curls bob a little with the movement and Trixie wishes that they were tickling her thighs. Her nails are digging into her own skin and she brings them out, slides one hand to her opening, slowly tracing two fingers through her wetness to bring them to her clit, gently pass over it so that she shivers, whimpers.

Trixie is choking on her moans, her own fingers feel so good, and Katya is staring down at her, watching her hips rock and sweat drip down her neck. Her fingers are circling and she almost can’t find friction with how wet she is, and it’s so loud to just touch herself, Katya’s lips turn up into her first smile of the night.

“You sound so wet,” Katya laughs, and Trixie sobs, jerks her hips upwards, toes clenching on the carpet. Her stomach flutters with the mocking comment, how delighted Katya looks at how undone she’s becoming. Katya is still smirking and Trixie can’t stop sliding her fingers across herself, but she’s losing rhythm with how soaked she is, she can see how she’s dripping onto the couch and down her thighs. “Baby, look at me.”

Trixie’s head snaps up, Katya’s eyes are on her, Trixie is so naked, Katya is just staring at her breasts and her pussy, where she’s spread open for Katya to look. It’s the hottest thing that Trixie’s ever done, rub off for Katya’s enjoyment, she’d do it even if she wasn’t gaining her own pleasure out of it. Fuck.

Trixie is seriously considering jumping up and capturing her mouth, letting her hands pinch and squeeze Trixie’s hips, she’s so naked and on the edge and she’s about to snap when Katya brings her foot back down to the rug, takes one last drag and puts the cigarette out in the ashtray, half-smoked. 

Trixie is buzzing with anticipation as Katya pulls down her nylons and her black thong with them, under her skirt. Trixie can see her bra under her button-up, her breasts straining against it as she bends over, and her blazer tight around her muscled shoulders. Katya hikes up her pencil skirt and Trixie can see how wet she is, too, her bony hips and her round thighs are making Trixie drool, she has to lick her lips. 

Trixie knows how it’s going to go and she needs it, needs Katya all over her, needs her on her face and needs her hands yanking her around by the hair, needs it so badly that she’s whining for her on the couch as she steps out of her nylons and pads over on sore, bare feet.

“You gonna be good for me?” Katya whispers, bending down so that she’s almost kissing Trixie’s lips, and Trixie doesn’t dare move but she nods frantically, can’t stop how her lashes flutter in the empty space between her and Katya. Katya’s lipstick is smeared from the cigarette and her glasses are fogging up with Trixie’s hot breath, so she pushes them up to hold her hair back. Trixie knows that she can’t see now, that she’ll squint a little, and then she’s pulling her thigh up so that her foot is resting next to Trixie’s head on the back of the couch, and Trixie realizes that her other leg is positioned right between both of Trixie’s, where she’s still spread wide.

Katya leans forward into the splits and Trixie pushes up, and then her mouth is hot on Katya’s pussy, so that Katya shivers visibly, she’s brushing up against her and Trixie’s tongue is on her clit, she’s so wet that she’s dripping down Trixie’s chin already, thrusting up onto her lips.

“Harder,” Katya whispers, and Trixie groans into her, she’s getting Trixie’s face wet, her cheeks and chin, dripping down her neck, and Trixie barely has room to breathe, Katya’s fingers are tight in her hair, holding her in place, and Trixie is whimpering and gripping Katya’s thighs, pulling a finger to her opening and pushing it inside alongside her tongue so that Katya moans, extends forward, Trixie’s eyes are shut tight but she opens them to see Katya’s neatly trimmed hairs, her soft soft tan skin, her belly button and her abs fluttering. 

Trixie knows she’s about to come, Katya has a way of working herself up just looking at Trixie before even fucking her that sends her so close to the edge, so she comes quick, and tonight is no exception to that. 

“Baby, sweet baby, Trixie, baby,” Katya is mumbling, tugging on Trixie’s hair, and then Trixie slides a hand to her own clit and rubs until she comes in just seconds, Katya still hot and thrusting on her face. Trixie pushes in a second finger, her fingers are trembling with aftershocks but Katya hasn’t come and she’s bearing down on Trixie’s fingers, grunting as Trixie traces her tongue over her clit.

“Sweetheart,” Katya whimpers and then she comes, pulling Trixie’s face in to thrust against her nose, moan and twitch and dig her thumbs into Trixie’s cheeks.

Katya lets herself fall down onto the couch, pulls Trixie between her legs, on top of her, tight against her. They lie there for minutes, Katya’s fingers running through her hair, her skirt and shirt bunched up under Trixie’s stomach and hips, Katya keeps kissing her damp cheeks, licking along her lips, humming against her skin. Trixie wants to sleep here, in Katya’s grip, but then Katya is sliding out from underneath her and stripping, pulling her to bed where Trixie cuddles up to her, lets her wrap tight, strong arms around her back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trixie spent the entire week letting Katya fuck her good and hard, letting Katya buy her lingerie and dresses and sunglasses and jewelry. She’s eaten Katya’s pussy more times than she can count, and Katya’s eaten her ass twice, but she doesn’t have any prospective jobs at NYU, not even selling coffee in a student center or working in a stockroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> often before writing a sex scene for this fic i chug a cup of coffee and let god sort it out
> 
> good luck with this chapter, everyone

“She’s _what_?” Kim shrieks over the line. Trixie pulls it back from her ear quickly, grimaces.

“Shut up! What the fuck, calm down, okay,” Trixie straightens her skirt. Kim is laughing at her and she doesn’t fucking care, Kim can laugh all she wants since Trixie is living the good life right now, she’ll be back at her mom’s tomorrow, sure, but right now she’s in a dream. And she’s allowing herself the luxury of it.

“Say it,” Kim wheezes. Trixie rolls her eyes, fixes her eyebrow hairs with her fingernail in the light around the bathroom mirror. Katya is at the gym, it’s 7am, and Trixie is taking the time to call her best friend and tell her about what, exactly, is going on in her life.

“She’s forty-five, and definitely a millionaire,” Trixie laughs with Kim, her breath fogging up the mirror. 

Trixie’s felt lonely ever since graduation, cooped up in the mansion. And Kim has been off at her new job, selling her own makeup with her new friends from school. Trixie was jealous of her, once upon a time, she’d lie in her bed and wish she was off in Los Angeles, filming trips to photoshoots and drag shows, eating at restaurants for every meal and sitting in the sun, laughing and driving around with the windows wide open. 

But she has her own wild life now, and Kim is still laughing over it all the way across the country.

“Trixie, what the fuck!” She screeches, and Trixie huffs.

“Kim, chill out, okay? She’s smart! She’s an astronomy prof and she reads, like, every spare minute. I-” Trixie cuts herself off.

“Oh,” Kim stops laughing, she lowers her voice. She’s in the bathroom of a photoshoot at 5am but for some reason Trixie doubts that she’s getting all quiet because of her job, because she can feel Kim’s judgy eyes over the line. “Oh, you like her.”

“It’s not like, It’s not _that_ serious. She’s just funny and gorgeous and she likes me, too, I know she does,” Trixie says quickly, she feels weirdly uncomfortable saying what she’s been thinking about Katya’s actions the past couple of weeks. Katya _has_ been holding her hand at every available moment, has looked at Trixie like nobody else has before from across the table, from the corner of the bathroom mirror in the morning.

“Wow,” Kim says frankly. Trixie scowls at her reflection. 

“Shut up,” she growls, and then Kim is laughing again, but Katya is coming in the front door and Trixie says her goodbyes, Kim still laughing at her as she hangs up.

“Baby,” Katya says outside the bathroom door. It’s open, but she leans against the frame anyway. She’s freshly showered and Trixie traces the freckles on her shoulders in the bathroom lighting. “Who’re you calling?”

“Just Kim, I haven’t talked to her in almost a week.” Trixie crosses the two feet between them, brings her hands to run through Katya’s wet hair on the back of her neck. It’s dark gray with water, but some white streaks are already dry on her temples. Katya lets her eyes close as Trixie’s fingers dig into her scalp.

“Is she having a good time over there?” Trixie knows that Katya is from California, that her parents had a big, sunny house in Beverly Hills that she grew up nearly alone in, knows that sometimes Katya goes up to the rooftop on a painfully hot day and lets the sun fry her because she insists that it reminds her of home. Katya’s told her about the house and the big pool, has told Trixie that she wants to take her there sometime.

Trixie wants to go, wants to spend a vacation with Katya where neither of them have a hidden, buzzing worry about all of their commitments.

“Of course, she’s all established and successful,” Trixie whispers. Her lips are almost on Katya’s now, and Katya pushes hers forwards to kiss her.

“You’re successful, and nearly established,” Katya says against her lips. Trixie rolls her eyes and laughs.

“God, no.”

Katya’s mouth is hot on hers, her hands brace Trixie’s shoulders and guide her to the bedroom. Trixie appreciates that she’s ignoring the subject for now, that she’s going to fuck Trixie now instead of get into what Trixie is almost sure will be the worst conversation of her adult life.

Katya is pulling at Trixie’s pajama shirt, squeezing her breasts through the soft fabric. Trixie sniffs when Katya pinches both of her nipples hard, the friction from her shirt and her fingers making her ache low in her stomach.

“I kept thinking about how bad I wanted to do this my whole session at the gym,” she whispers. Trixie’s spine aches already and she shivers as Katya brings her hands around her waist. “Clothes off.”

Trixie pulls off her pajamas, she’s already tingling from how Katya is pushing her around. She always gets back from the gym with a need to regain control, wants Trixie to kneel and eat her out until she’s gasping for breath into her pussy and Katya won’t give it to her, so that her eyes roll back into her head.

But this time Katya is naked kneeling over her, knees on either side of her shoulders. “Open.”

Trixie whines, opens her mouth and Katya slides up her chest so she’s almost sitting on her neck, so Trixie’s nose is bumping against her clit. Trixie moans brokenly at how Katya hisses when her tongue immediately slides inside her, Katya’s already so wet and Trixie slowly licks up her and then back down to her ass, so Katya’s hips twitch and her wetness is spread more across Trixie’s jaw.

“Katya,” Trixie mumbles into her, kisses her twice with more suction behind her lips, so Katya’s hips jerk again and she brings one hand to Trixie’s cheek, pulls her head forward a little so she’s more smashed against, her, so her teeth scrape her soft, wet flesh and she gasps.

“Fuck, Trixie, baby,” Katya is rolling her hips, grinding down on Trixie’s mouth, and her abs are flexing and heaving as she does it. Trixie forces herself to keep her eyes open, to watch Katya as her eyes close and she brings her hand from Trixie’s face to rub her clit slowly, her fingers bumping against Trixie’s tongue every once in a while. Trixie squeezes her thigh for some air, and Katya slides back almost unconsciously, still rubbing herself so Trixie can take a few deep breaths, then she inches back down so her tailbone is bony and pressed against Trixie’s chest, so her ass is on Trixie’s neck.

Trixie brings her hand up to Katya’s mouth for her to suck on two of her fingers, she runs her flat tongue over and over them until they’re soaked and dripping when Trixie pulls them out, brings them up close to her neck to bump them on Katya’s ass, slide them between her cheeks and rub her hole once, twice, so she groans and throws her head back.

Trixie smiles into her, curls her tongue upwards inside her and twists it, it’s already cramping a little but she ignores it, pushes through the pain and how her air is getting cut off so she can keep hearing Katya’s low moans.

“Sweetheart,” Katya whispers, and Trixie pushes one finger into Katya’s ass, as slow as she can get away with until Katya bears down on it, sliding closer to her jaw. “Oh god.”

Trixie pumps in and out of her slowly, crooks her finger upwards so Katya gasps, a big, shuddering one. She’s curling in on herself, her head leaning forward towards Trixie and the pillows so her stomach is clenching and her abs disappear, replaced by soft, squishy skin. Trixie wants to touch it, wants to pinch it and roll it between her fingers. Her breasts are bouncing gently with each of Trixie’s thrusts inside her.

Trixie meets Katya’s eyes when they’re open for a fraction of a second, just as she’s getting used to the pressure, and Trixie slides her second finger inside Katya at that instant, scissors both of them so Katya is moaning loudly and throwing her head back again, she’s rubbing herself faster and Trixie can tell that she’s about to come from how shallow her breaths are, how her hand is getting more and more clumsy as she rubs herself.

Trixie fucks her ass harder with her fingers and slides one inside her pussy, she’s so soaked that she’s dripping down across Trixie’s sweaty neck and over her fingers in her ass and down to the pillows below. Trixie hums into her, giggles a little, and Katya whines properly, a long, drawn-out one that has Trixie’s hips rocking up into nothing.

Trixie is melting, it’s so hot under Katya’s skin and the entire weight of her muscular torso but it’s so good, Katya is mumbling to Trixie but Trixie isn’t listening, her own arousal is making her crazy with how she can’t get off, she has nothing to even rub lightly against and she’s so wet that she’s soaked all down her thighs, she’s sure that she’s soaking the bed, too, Katya’s expensive sheets she’s had to replace brand new three separate times since Trixie’s arrived. 

“Trixie, my baby, I’m going to come,” Katya’s words are breathy like Trixie’s never heard them before, she sounds so much less in-control than she usually is, and Trixie’s sweat is dripping from her forehead down her eyebrows and back into her hair, through her scalp.

Trixie nods, which rubs her nose against Katya again, and then Katya is sliding back and taking all three of Trixie’s fingers with her, pulling back from her mouth. 

“Harder, come on,” Katya breathes, and Trixie fingers her faster, curling her fingers, pushing deep and digging her thumbs into her neatly-trimmed hair. Katya lets out a huge moan and Trixie’s mouth is still open so when Katya comes hard she’s squirting right into Trixie’s mouth, all over her face, drenching her and her hair and filling her mouth. Trixie is moaning, too, then, and laughing a little, swallowing without thinking and fucking Katya through it, all of the tiny bits she has left spraying Trixie’s face and chin.

“Baby,” Katya moans, Trixie pulls her fingers out of her slowly and lets Katya throw her legs down the bed, grip one of Trixie’s nipples between her hot, wet fingers, and kiss her dirty and sloppy with her tongue pushing far back almost down her throat, tasting herself in Trixie’s spit and whatever’s left from her release amongst her teeth. “You swallowed it all, you liked it?”

“Yeah,” Trixie mumbles into her mouth, Katya laughing through her nose at her. Trixie takes Katya’s hand from where it’s resting on her stomach, pulls it down to her soaking pussy, presses the heel of her palm against her clit. Her eyes roll back beneath her closed lids, and she opens them when three of Katya’s thin fingers slide inside her with only the tiniest bit of stretch. 

“Please,” Trixie whispers, and Katya smiles huge against her tongue. She fucks Trixie with all three fingers, thumb bumping over her clit repeatedly until she’s curling up, coming with a little whimper, Katya kissing her hard the whole way through.

-

Katya takes Trixie to breakfast once they’ve both showered a second time, and she brings it up at the table.

“So we haven’t been looking for jobs for you,” Katya passes Trixie the syrup with her words, she has a cigarette hanging from her lips as usual and there’s heavy traffic sitting beside them on the street. It’s a nice sunny day, the kind where it isn’t too humid and the wind is blowing gently, and Trixie wants to lie out on green grass and smoke a blunt, wonders vaguely if Katya would shut up and drive them out to the suburbs so they could. But she doubts it, because Katya is still staring at her, waiting for her response.

“Yeah.” Trixie says, takes a sip of coffee. Katya raises her eyebrows.

“So, what do you think? You want me to ask around today?” Her fingers are around the cigarette and in her lap, Trixie can see them twisting around the white napkin, pulling at the seam of it nervously. It makes Trixie want to yell at her, her head is pounding a little bit and she doesn’t want to confront any of it, doesn’t want to go back home to an empty house and an expectant mother in Mexico, calling her to ask how it went drunk on margaritas. 

Trixie spent the entire week letting Katya fuck her good and hard, letting Katya buy her lingerie and dresses and sunglasses and jewelry. She’s eaten Katya’s pussy more times than she can count, and Katya’s eaten her ass twice, but she doesn’t have any prospective jobs at NYU, not even selling coffee in a student center or working in a stockroom. 

They’ve both fucked up, royally, and Trixie is just going to have to lie.

“Yeah, I guess,” Trixie holds her hand out and Katya takes it. The sun is glinting in Katya’s gray hair, she has half of it yanked up in a tiny bun, a few curls framing her temples. She’s bare-faced, and her sunglasses are gliding down her pretty nose, Trixie can see her pale lashes come into view. She traces the faint lines on her forehead and the imprints of her crow’s feet left when her face is resting. 

Trixie is so, so fucked. 

“Okay,” Katya’s lips turn up into a grin, and all her wrinkles come back, and her eyes sparkle. She squeezes Trixie’s hand with her dry one and blows smoke through her nose. And then her fingers are gone, and she’s chopping up her french toast with one hand, shoveling it in her mouth bit by bit.

“Thanks, and, you know, if. If you don’t find anything, like, I’m going to be lying to my mom anyway, about what we’ve been doing all week,” Katya snorts, coughs out smoke and giggles, dropping her fork to grip the edge of the table. Trixie laughs, too, and her headache disappears a little. “So it’ll be okay.”

Katya nods, still smiling, and she doesn’t stop through the rest of the meal, not until they’re in the car and Trixie wants to kiss her slowly and quietly, with the sun streaming in the back window and the buildings creeping by. Katya braces hands on Trixie’s elbows, pulls her to her lap, lets her rest her thumbs on her cheeks. Her mouth is warm and soft, she has syrup pooling at the sides of it, and Trixie kisses it off until they pull up at Katya’s building.

Katya holds her hand from the car to the end of the elevator ride, and she’s quiet the whole time. Trixie can tell that she’s thinking, can see it in her shoulders and her eyes, and she doesn’t know if she should question her or wait for her to bring it up on her own. 

But she doesn’t have to wait long. Katya leads her by the hand into the penthouse, to where she brings her over to the couch, sits right up on her side, cuddled against her. Her shirt and arms are warm from the sun, and she takes both of Trixie’s hands in hers, cups her fingers around them. Her hands are a little sweaty, a little shaky, and Trixie’s heart starts beating a little bit faster.

“Trixie,” she turns to face her, lifts her thigh to cross it over Trixie’s, slides her leg between Trixie’s. She’s so close, Trixie can smell her spearmint gum and her lipstick. She’s looking right in Trixie’s eyes. “Okay.”

Trixie isn’t breathing. She has no idea what Katya’s about to say, she can see how Katya’s been psyching herself up to this moment all morning, now, how quiet she was when Trixie ran soap across her back in the shower with her nose in her gray hair, how serious she looked when they finished their breakfast. She’s going to be let down, she knows it, Katya’s had her fill of her, she’s bought her shiny new things and fucked her long and hard and now she’s done, she’s going to leave Trixie in the dust to find a younger, prettier girl to spoil.

“I just. I think it might be easier if you wanted, I mean, nobody’s forcing you to, but it just might be a good idea if you would, I don’t know, like to. If you’d like to move in with me?”

The blood rushes to Trixie’s ears. Katya is still talking, squeezing her fingers impossibly tight, but she can’t hear her, Katya’s big green eyes are so wide, trying to convince her and Trixie can’t do it, can’t say yes, she couldn’t live here and mooch off Katya until they both died rich and withered on piles and piles of money, Trixie never finding a job and Katya not pushing her to get one because she just wants a Barbie doll to prop up and play with.

Trixie is trying to maneuver out of Katya’s grip, trying to pull her leg out from underneath her, but Katya is still talking, her hands are exponentially more sweaty, gripping Trixie’s fingers tightly.

“Katya.”

Trixie can hear her mouth shut, can hear her teeth click together. She’s blinking rapidly and her nose scrunches up a little bit. Her gray curls are somehow extending from her head, getting tangled, seemingly from the sheer force of Katya’s own anxiety that’s seeping off her in thick waves.

“Katya, I can’t,” Trixie pulls her hands away where Katya’s have relaxed their grip a little. Katya’s eyes are huge, her shoulders are tensed and Trixie can feel her fingers try to grapple with Trixie’s as she pulls away.

“You can’t?” She looks so downtrodden and Trixie’s hearing is back to the level where she thinks that she can hear Katya’s heatbeat from where she’s picking up her purse on the coffee table, she’s tripping over her own feet to the bedroom to get all of her things. 

Trixie doesn’t know how she’s going to get home but she’s throwing all of her clothes that have somehow been laid out across the room and folded, washed by Katya with her own laundry, into her pink suitcase, she can hear something crash in the living room and then Katya is following her, slamming the door open. 

“Trixie, baby, no, you can stay, what?” Katya is asking but Trixie is fighting off hot tears for some reason, she’s spooked down to her core and she can see how Katya’s hands are shaking where she’s holding the door frame.

“Katya, I don’t know, okay, I just need to go, I don’t know,” Trixie has all of it packed except for the stupid lingerie, that’s hanging out of Katya’s messy top drawer. She’s going to leave it, and Katya’s eyes follow hers over to the beautiful, expensive pieces of fabric she was so happy to buy for her. Trixie can see her gulp from across the room. “I gotta go.”

“Trixie,” Katya takes three big steps forward, and so does Trixie, but it’s to pull her suitcase off the bed, the wheels banging on the floor, she grips the handle as tight as she can. It makes her hand ache, and then Katya’s fingers are on hers and she’s trying to gently encourage them off the suitcase.

“Katya, stop it. Don’t! I don’t need you to carry my shit, okay, I don’t need anything from you and I don’t _want_ anything from you, I don’t fucking care how much money you have, I don’t want to live here and be your fucking, I don’t know, fucking _kept woman_ , okay?” Trixie slaps Katya’s hand off of hers, Katya’s face is getting redder and redder by the second, her brows are rising higher than they ever have when Trixie’s misbehaved in the bedroom and the deep lines in her forehead are warping in anger.

“Trixie, what the fuck? What the hell is wrong with you, I asked you a simple question and I don’t expect you to just, I don’t even know what you’re _saying_ , I don’t expect you to, to, to live here as my girlfriend and mooch off me, I’m trying to _help_ , I want to help you!” Trixie is pulling her heavy suitcase with her back into the living room, her purse digging into her forearm, twisting the skin and pulling at her arm hairs. Katya’s hand is on her shoulder and Trixie shrugs it off.

“I don’t know what fucking planet you come from, Katya, but on _my_ home planet Earth, asking someone to come live with them after knowing them for two weeks is _not_ a simple question!” Trixie turns around at the door, sees her laptop sitting on the table next to Katya’s. 

It’s the picture of domesticity, is the thing. And through Trixie’s blurry vision it looks nice, too. Katya’s plum laptop case next to Trixie’s pink one, how they’re set up charging next to each other. It makes her heart squeeze for a second, and she’s sure that it’s just because she knows that she’s going to leave it here and never come back, she’ll have to buy a brand new one with her stepfather’s money and her mom will grill her about why it’s missing, about why she’s back early and about why she won’t come down to join the parties anymore.

Katya is standing, panting in front of her, between her and the living room and kitchen. It’s dimly lit, it’s almost noon and the sun is coming from above them and no longer shining in the windows, the gray couch is behind Katya looming in the massive space and Trixie has a moment of realization at how empty the entire place is.

Even with Katya’s weird knick-knacks and art on the walls it’s fairly empty, the square footage of sheer monetary value and perverse richness makes Trixie nauseous, even more unsettled when she realizes that she would genuinely love to live here, live here with Katya and sit on the couch reading a book as Katya takes calls at the bar, or spreads all of her grading across the table. Trixie would love to love her, would love to fuck her on the table and on the floor in front of the electric fireplace with light New York snow sprinkling out the tall windows amongst the buildings. She wants her things mixed with Katya’s, wants to convince Katya to buy some more furniture for the place in bright colors to make it all look happier.

But Katya is watching her like she’s destroyed everything she’s ever worked for, all of her degrees and all of her intelligence, like she’s failed because Trixie wouldn’t agree to move in from the jump. And it’s making Trixie unspeakably angry, how entitled she is, how little she cares about Trixie’s own life, Trixie’s job hunt, Trixie’s insecurities and worries.

“You think that all of this can be solved by money, and that’s ignorant as hell,” Trixie sneers, and she watches Katya’s jaw drop in slow motion, watches her cheeks flush even darker. 

“That’s a false fucking accusation and you know it, Trixie, I never said that, I meant that if you lived with me you could be independent, okay, you wouldn’t be trapped upstate, you wouldn’t be living with your _mother_ , I don’t get why you’re putting so much weight on this when it doesn’t have to mean a single thing!” Katya is yelling, now, only a foot away from Trixie’s face. She’s spitting smoky breath up her nose and Trixie hates it, hates how familiar she smells, hates how sad her eyes look, hates how loud she’s screaming.

And Trixie realizes that in all of Katya’s life, through all of her adventures and misfortunes and quirkiness, nobody has ever once told her “No.”

And so she turns her back to Katya, unlocks the door and slams it behind her, slams the door on Katya and her laptop with all of her old schoolwork saved on it, slams the door on her lingerie and her planner, which she knows is sitting on the kitchen counter with the big list of the numbers of professors she could call to ask about possible job opportunities.

She slams the door on Katya, slams it when she’s still calling after her, and she ignores the yelling and the frantic clicking of the door as she opens it again, presses the elevator door shut right in front of Katya’s blotchy face, her clenched fists and where her gray hair is sticking up tangled from her temples.

The driver, Trixie still doesn’t know his name and she really doesn’t care to, now, drives her back home.

It takes two hours, and Trixie doesn’t check her phone the entire time, but after an hour and forty-five minutes of almost constant rhythmic buzzing on the leather seat next to her it finally goes silent, and her heart clenches a little before she realizes that it’s run out of battery.

She’s sure that Katya told the driver to take her home, but she doesn’t care. She’s never been so tired, and she’s grateful that she didn’t have to find a taxi that would cost a fortune for a drive upstate. She sits in the backseat and gazes blankly out the tinted windows at the city, then the countryside, until the car is pulling up to the mansion.

It doesn’t look any different but for a pink flamingo she can imagine her mom putting out in the front yard by the circular brick driveway cheekily. The building is still looming, chintzy, faux-Victorian. Trixie digs in her purse for her keys and they’re blessedly still in the pocket she left them in the previous Saturday, when she had stumbled just-fucked out to the car with Katya’s hand in hers. 

Trixie won’t think about it, can’t think about it, not while the driver is opening the door for her and taking her hand to help her out. It’s in a moment where they lock eyes that she realizes that she’s been crying the whole ride, that her lashes are sticking to her skin and that her makeup is crusting across her cheeks with salt.

She shifts her body awkwardly, as he lets go of her arm. He stands and looks her over once, twice, where she’s crumpled her skirt in her balled fists the whole ride, where she’s limply holding her dead phone in her shaky hand, and then he crosses to the trunk to take out her suitcase, gesture his chin at the front door to say that he’s going to leave it on the steps next to it.

She follows him slowly with her purse over one shoulder, her pink cowgirl boots clacking on the brick. She nods at him in thanks when he leaves her suitcase on the top step, and he pauses before turning back to the car.

“She really cares about you,” he says, he has a heavy accent Trixie can pin as Eastern European. She can feel her own face crumple a little bit, and she nods at him.

“Thanks for the rides,” she chokes out, turns away from him to unlock the door. She knows that her mom is still in Mexico with friends, she’s scheduled to come back sometime later in the week. Trixie doesn’t want her to, she has a fleeting image of herself wallowing away in the mansion, switching rooms every few months so she can trash them with empty bottles of vodka and crumpled joints. She imagines Katya sitting on her couch, the one Trixie just got off on like an idiot in front of her, chain smoking and probably crying, trying to cope with Trixie’s sudden departure, getting a sobbing call from Jenny that Trixie had died while they were both gone, not thinking about if she was okay, if she needed anything.

Trixie smirks a little thinking of it, then chides herself for being so childish. She needs to face all of it, get over it. She’ll have to call Katya eventually, if this stupid tugging in her gut means what she thinks it means. She doesn’t want to, but she’s going to, and that’s terrifying.

-

Trixie stares up at the pink ceiling in the pitch black for three nights. The whole house is so empty but for the cleaners that come Sunday morning, and with no party detritus to sift through they’re gone within the hour. It’s so, so empty, and Trixie is barely hanging on to the edge of paranoia, she refuses to think that there are ghosts, or other people hiding, but it’s only a matter of time before she can no longer write off all the noises as natural.

She hates that Cat is gone, too, with her mom on the plane to the stupid resort, he’s probably drunk on doggie sundaes and sunshine while Trixie misses him warm next to her in her bed, curled up next to her stomach.

What she really misses, though, is Katya. Her body hot against Trixie’s, waking her up with how she radiates heat in the night or with how she turns over every thirty minutes in bed. Trixie wants Katya’s sweet hair in her mouth, tickling her nose, and she misses tangling their ankles together and kissing her right before she’d fall asleep.

She’d only stayed for six days, but it had felt like so much longer and so much shorter. Katya would wake her up with her nose buried deep in her pussy, would try to make her toast for breakfast. She misses Katya’s low grumbling on a phone call to the bank or a coworker in the kitchen as Trixie would nap on the couch after they fucked, misses the night Katya ordered pizza and insisted she sit through six hour-long episodes of _Twin Peaks_ on her massive television, had half-laughed while yelling at her to pay attention every single time Trixie asked a confused question about a character or scene.

Despite her fantasies of trashing all of the guest rooms when she arrived, Trixie doesn’t much move outside of the kitchen, living room, and her bedroom the entire time. She wanders through the halls in a daze one early morning when she can’t sleep, watches the fog outside the hall windows creeping over the land out back, hanging over the lamps in the front. After that singular exploring trip, she decides it would maybe be better to just leave the rest of the huge house alone, let it sit quietly while she tries not to cry over romcoms on the big floral couch.

On Trixie’s third day alone in the expanse of the mansion, she watches mindless Netflix on the TV in the living room from sunup to sundown. But what she really, truly does is fight with herself over if she should check her phone, if she should turn it on to the inevitable rush of messages and voicemails from Katya.

She wonders long and winding if Katya’s been moping around like she has, or if she’s been throwing herself into research, or if she’s been working out at every available free moment. Trixie wonders just how many cigarettes must be gathered up in all of her ashtrays, wonders how much Katya’s been sleeping.

And then she forces herself to think about it.

She forces herself to really think about it, to imagine each scenario in her head, she writes lists of pros and cons on notebook paper with ballpoint pens, tries to imagine herself really living with Katya, with all her things in her penthouse, with Katya’s address listed as her own on all of her new job applications.

And ever since that little moment where she stood tense in front of the door, looking down at Katya, she hasn’t hated the idea. What she _does_ hate, though, is how much her own insecurities have fucked her chances of ever being able to speak to Katya again without dying of embarrassment and anxiety. She’s screamed the worst things at her, and Katya was just being kind the best way she knows how, by offering her home up for Trixie to make it easier for her to get hired in the city, to make it less stressful for her to try to drive herself two hours down two hours back to make it to early afternoon interviews. She’s sure that Katya would have her driver do it, too, pick Trixie up every day and bring her back and forth so she could figure it all out on her own.

Trixie wants to apologize, but she also wants Katya to apologize for screaming, for being so unwilling to understand where Trixie was coming from. She is filthy rich, and Trixie knows that that’s going to make her less perceptive and empathetic about Trixie’s problems. Sure, Trixie could live off her stepfather’s money until the day she died, but she has no desire to do so. And Katya has to understand that Trixie doesn’t want to live off of her’s just yet, either.

When the sun sets and Trixie turns off the TV, brings a cup of tea to her room, she plugs her phone in and lets the notifications freeze the screen for a few minutes.

She has fifty texts from Katya and four missed calls, four voicemails. It’s not as many as she thought there would be, and her heart sinks a little when it crosses the back of her mind that maybe Katya’s given up. But she leaves the texts for later, presses shaking fingers to the play button next to the first voicemail, the one Katya left right as Trixie was still driving through the city, leaving the penthouse.

“Trixie, Trixie…” She pauses, and Trixie can feel her voice pooling in her stomach. She’s never heard it so new before, she’s forgotten what it sounded like but when Katya says her name it makes her heart beat ten times faster. “Baby, I don’t know what I did wrong but I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry. I hope that you can forgive me, I don’t want you to think that I was, I don’t know, implying you couldn’t live on your own, or, or that you need me to succeed, or, God, I don’t even _know_ , but I do know that I want to talk to you. Please call me back. I’m sorry.”

She sighs thickly into the receiver and it crackles loudly in Trixie’s ear. The message cuts off.

Trixie hesitates before listening to the second message. It was sent on Sunday, in the early afternoon, and Trixie doesn’t really know if she wants to hear any more. She’s sure that it’ll be much of the same, and then her screen brightens up the whole way from where it was almost asleep with a text from Katya. She inhales sharply, swipes it away before she can be tempted to read it, and presses play.

“Baby, hi. I missed calling you and I didn’t really think before dialing, so. I’m just hoping that maybe you want to hear from me. I just want you to answer me, Trix, I want to talk to you. If you don’t want to live with me that’s okay, I’m not angry with you, I want to keep seeing you if you want to keep seeing me. I want to talk to you, Trixie.” She sounds frustrated, frustrated with herself, almost. Like she can’t find the right words to articulate her argument. Trixie feels a rush of guilt, she has two new texts from her now.

The third message was left yesterday at 5pm. It’s just a rustling of the phone, a clink, and it’s cut off at 5 seconds. Trixie plays the fourth, sent minutes later, without thinking, and she can tell that Katya is drunk from the instant she starts speaking.

“Baby,” It sounds like she chokes the nickname out, and Trixie shivers a little. “Baby, Trixie, tell me why you’re angry, please,” she whines, and Trixie rolls her eyes but smiles a little, too. Katya sounds like she’s choking out the words, and Trixie misses her, misses her being ridiculous and misses how Katya seems to know exactly what she wants at all times.

There’s a little pause and Trixie thinks she can hear Katya cover up a hiccup. “I wanna live with you, ‘cause I love you, Trixie. I think you’re so beautiful, so funny and silly and. And you have the sweetest pussy, and I thought you liked me too.” Trixie can hear her pout, but her heart’s stopped beating, she’s stopped breathing. 

Katya is saying something else but Trixie can’t try to make it out, she has choirs of blood screaming in her ears. Katya loves her, and what Trixie is the most surprised about is how unsurprised she is to hear it. 

She lies in bed for a good while, then, the only light coming from her fairy lights that are still hastily pinned to the ceiling. She reads through the texts numbly, and when it sinks in that Katya kept texting her about the goings-on of her daily life like she did before the fight she can feel her heart clench, when Katya sends a paragraph describing a bird she saw on the street and then, seconds later, another apology and an “ _I hope you’re okay, baby._ ”

Her two most recent texts are goodnight texts, and Trixie can feel her chest ache when she reads them.

**Katya** : Goodnight, Trixie

**Katya** : I hope you’re sleeping well.

So against her better judgement she presses call, lets the phone ring twice before hastily hanging up, taking three deep breaths before trying again, this time slower with her fingerprint pressing to the screen.

“Trixie?” Katya sounds very asleep, still, but also very awake. She sounds gruff and disturbed, but also soft, like Trixie’s the only one that could ever be allowed to call her so late. 

“Hey,” Trixie whispers. She doesn’t know what to say, except that she does, and she breathes in shakily. She can hear Katya shuffling around in her comfy sheets on the other end.

“Hey.” Katya doesn’t sound like she’s expecting anything. But Trixie doesn’t know if she remembers her wasted voicemail, doesn’t know if she remembers how she spewed an “I love you” slower than honey, slurring it in absolute agony.

“I want you to know that this is me being stupid,” Trixie says. Katya breathes in, and Trixie can hear it, can imagine Katya bare-faced against the white pillow, rubbing her tired eyes. Trixie wonders if she’s turned on the light on the bedside table or if she’s just lying in the dark, waiting for what Trixie’s about to say.

“Okay,” Katya whispers. She sounds nervous and Trixie guesses that she would be, too, but Trixie needs to push past this initial awkwardness as quickly as she can. For both of their sakes.

“Like. Really stupid. If I was at all in my right mind I wouldn’t even think about doing this,” Trixie can’t stop running her big mouth, though. She’s somewhere dimly aware that Katya has to wake up in two hours to go to the gym and feels remotely guilty, but then she remembers how Katya selfishly screamed at her as she slammed the door. 

“Okay.” Trixie can hear the flick of a lighter, can hear Katya breathe in through her nose.

“You left me a voicemail yesterday.”

“I did?” Katya sounds genuinely surprised, and anxious, and Trixie can’t blame her for being worried if she really doesn’t remember. “I don’t remember much of yesterday, baby.”

Trixie ignores the way her stomach clenches at the name. 

“You did. Katya,” Trixie swallows. “You said you love me.”

Katya coughs. And then she sits in silence for a few seconds before coughing again.

“Yeah,” she says. Trixie’s heart is beating so fast, she’s suddenly wide awake and she wishes she was maybe in Katya’s huge bed, Katya smoking with Trixie’s head on her stomach, talking about nothing. “I guess I did, then.”

Trixie tries to center her breaths. Some of her fairy lights are out, she can count three from where she’s lying in bed right now, head half buried into the pillow.

“Do you?” Trixie can’t help but ask. It’s so late, but she can hear the birds start to chirp outside past her balcony and her head is fuzzy with early morning. Katya sighs.

“I love you.” 

“Oh.” 

They’re both quiet, then. Trixie knows that it’s her turn to say something but she can’t force any words out. She keeps opening her mouth thinking she’s going to and then closing it again. Katya sighs.

“Well, I should let you go then, baby. You left some stuff here, I can get it sent over, okay?” She can hear Katya shift her body. Trixie wonders fleetingly if she’s naked. She never sleeps clothed.

“No.” Trixie says, before she can stop herself. She can hear Katya freeze. “No, can you come here tomorrow? Today, I mean?” 

The silence is heavy. Trixie kicks herself for asking, she doesn’t know _why_ she wants Katya to come over, doesn’t know what she thinks they would accomplish better face-to-face other than a good fucking, doesn’t know if she wants to have to deal with Katya’s eyes boring into hers as they discuss whatever the fuck is going on between them.

“Okay,” Katya says. She sounds more awake, but more on-edge, and Trixie doesn’t blame her.

“I just, I guess that I’d rather have this conversation in person,” Trixie whispers. 

“I’ll come around one, okay?” Katya says, her voice grumbling with sleep. 

“Okay.”

“Goodnight,” Katya yawns. Trixie holds her sympathy yawn even though it makes her eyes water.

“Goodnight, Katya.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :o


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trixie is screwed, fucked up the ass, she’s up the river without a paddle, she’s stuck between a rock and a hard place (the planes of Katya’s abs).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the final chapter! this is hardly edited, and i'm not sorry. special thanks, as always to all my friends and to everyone that loves this fic! <3 i hope you all enjoy this

Trixie sets her alarm for 11 but wakes up at 10, groggy and pulled out of a nightmare. For a second she reaches her hand out on her bed for Katya’s body but it isn’t there, and then she opens her eyes to her empty bedroom and shuts them again, squeezes them tight and yawns to cut the dryness.

She turns her alarm off and stretches out of bed, rubs the sleep out of her eyes as she pulls on her robe. It’s a sunny day, she had dreamed it would be stormy as she woke, that the thunder would rattle the walls as she waited for Katya to arrive.

She doesn’t know what possessed her to ask her over.

But maybe she does. Trixie can’t stay away from her, can’t stop her guilt from rising every time she thinks about her. And when she thinks back to the past couple of days, eating bags of m&m’s on the couch half-naked, turning the volume of the TV high enough that she wasn’t able to think about anything but _Property Brothers_ , she knows that she’s stuck with Katya for as long as Katya will have her.

And not just in a sexual way. Sure, Trixie’s never come as hard as she has for Katya, has never been as horny for someone as she has been for Katya. Katya is hot and strong, she’s at the gym half her life and her body is insane, especially for a forty-five year old woman that smokes. She’s everything, the absolute sexiest woman that Trixie’s ever seen, but it’s gotten deeper than that. And all of Trixie’s avoidance the past few days, all of her anxieties about Katya’s proposition have been resting on that very fact.

Trixie is screwed, fucked up the ass, she’s up the river without a paddle, she’s stuck between a rock and a hard place (the planes of Katya’s abs). And there’s not much she can do about it but be honest, be honest with herself and be honest with Katya, and, in the end, be honest with her mother.

Because Trixie has a feeling that if she’s honest with herself, it’ll lead to her home being Katya’s expensive penthouse. It’ll lead to a job in New York City, and, most importantly, it’ll lead to Katya being her next of kin. It’s overdramatic, but Trixie knows that if she releases her death grip on the branch on the shore she’ll be yanked along with the current, pulled into a new life with a woman she’s only known for nearly a month, now.

Trixie makes toast and burns her finger on the metal of the toaster when it pops up. She brews a pot of coffee and pours herself a mug, and then realizes that she doesn’t want to drink it. She uses up the last of the butter on her toast and eats half of a banana before actually tasting it and realizing that it’s overripe.

By the time she’s finished with breakfast it’s only 11am. She’s opened the kitchen window and let it air out, and without really thinking about what she’s doing she’s on her knees digging around in the cupboards to find the ashtray that her mom has bought specifically for the times Katya’s come to visit.

It’s weird, remembering that her mom has known Katya for a while. It’s even weirder knowing that Katya’s been to this house many times while Trixie was living in it, that she’s sat at the kitchen table with Jenny and chatted about life over mimosas while Trixie lied in her bed and bemoaned life and all it’s shortcomings.

Katya’s probably heard stories about her from her mom, probably already knew that Trixie got her Masters in psych before she asked her about it. Katya was playing the game that first night, she wanted to fuck Trixie and she wanted it _bad_ , and it makes Trixie want her even more.

Katya tried to seduce her in the kitchen, had leaned in close and wrapped her fingers around Trixie’s with a purpose. She wants Trixie, she _loves_ her. And Trixie wants her right back.

And loves her right back.

She doesn’t know if it’s because Katya’s bought her presents, of if it’s because Katya is an older woman with millions of dollars that she gets off on spending on Trixie. She doesn’t know if it’s because of Katya’s crow’s feet, or her gray hair, or her muscles. She’s sure that part of it is just Katya, just her personality, her laugh, her clothes and her eyes. An even bigger part of it is how she looks at Trixie, because Trixie is sure that she looks right back at her the exact same way.

But she does know that if she breaks up with Katya today (and it _would_ be a breakup, they’re definitely in _some_ kind of relationship, even if it isn’t a traditional one) she’ll be crawling back in a week, at the absolute most. She’ll be begging for Katya to spank her and to pull her hair over the phone drunk just like Katya was.

Trixie’s been in love before. Only twice, but she knows how heavy it feels. It’s building in her stomach and chest now, and she has no plans to try and stop it.

Katya is forty-five. She’s old enough to know what she wants, and she’s old enough to try to get it without caring about embarrassing herself or embarrassing Trixie. Katya is established, and the moment she said Trixie was “nearly established” has been running through Trixie’s mind during muted HGTV commercial breaks, haunting her the past few days.

Katya wants her, wants her sweet pussy and her negative job prospects, she wants Trixie to come live with her without a single cent to offer for rent. She wants to fuck her and tease her, wants Trixie to joke about her age when she finds long gray hairs on her clothes. 

She wants to help her get established, _make_ her established. Establish her. All of them sound filthy. And dreamy. And like everything she’s ever wanted.

It drives Trixie insane, and when her fingers find the cool glass of the ashtray stuffed behind the good china she pulls it out slowly, sets it on the table.

She’s going to give in.

And it’ll hardly even be “giving in,” whatever the fuck that means. It’ll be honest, and true, and it might make her cry. And then she’ll ask Katya if she’ll still let her come and live with her. 

What has she got to lose?

-

Trixie meanders through the haunted house for the remainder of the time she has until Katya is due to arrive. Every once in a while her brain slips to wonder what she’ll do if Katya doesn’t show up, but then she reminds herself of Katya’s sighing “I love you,” and she straightens her back, makes her bed on autopilot.

Katya should be on her way, she should be peering out the window of the backseat at the countryside. Maybe she’ll have shaky fingers, maybe she’ll have her head hanging out the window as she smokes. 

Trixie knows that she’s thinking about her, knows that she’s been thinking about her since she stormed out. And when her phone buzzes with a text she knows it’s from her.

 **Katya** : I’m on my way

Trixie replies with an affirmative and sits at the table on her phone looking through job openings. Her laptop is still at Katya’s, and she hopes that Katya will bring it along with her. If not, her mom is due back tomorrow and she’ll have to invent an even more elaborate story for it’s disappearance _plus_ everything that’s gone wrong since, and the fact that she doesn’t have a single interview set up.

She lazes around, stares at the wall. She contemplates drinking coffee again but decides against it, because she doesn’t want to have to pee once Katya’s here. She stares out the window at the fountain in the back, at the birds that hop around in the water and the squirrels that try to eat the birdseed from the feeders.

She watches the clock tick up to one, props her feet up on the opposite chair and rests her head in her hands as she waits.

When she opens the front door to Katya her heart stutters a little, caught off guard by her gray hair and her sunglasses she’s pushed past her hairline, face free of makeup. She’s silent when Trixie swings the wood open, revealing herself, and she’s passing her phone from hand to hand unconsciously. 

“Hi,” Trixie whispers. Katya smiles a little, but doesn’t step forward. 

“Hi, baby.” It looks like it hurts to say it, in the way that her eyes squeeze up when she does. Trixie backs up and gestures for her to come inside, and she does, stuffing her phone in her purse. 

Trixie leads them silently to the kitchen, sits down at the table where Katya read her palm the first night and where she put her hand on her thigh the next morning. It feels like years ago, like a decade has passed since the night Katya spanked her over her knee and invited her to stay over in front of her mother in the morning sunshine. 

Trixie already has the window above the table open, and some of the curling vines from the back of the house are creeping in. The birds are chirping a little, and Katya sits down next to her and threads her fingers together until they all turn white on the table in front of her. 

Trixie stares at her hands for a minute and then looks into Katya’s eyes. They’re bright green and the sunlight is cutting into them, and the lines on her forehead are dug in a little. 

“Do you want some coffee?” Trixie asks. It cuts through the silence and Katya is smiling that little smile that Trixie’s never seen before again. She nods and Trixie jumps up from her seat, pours them both coffee in floral painted mugs. 

When she returns to the table Katya is still sitting in the same position, but one of her hands has moved to sit on it’s elbow, prop her chin up. She’s in a white button up and denim shorts, just a step above naked-sleep casual, and she has a hairband around her wrist. 

Trixie sets the coffee in front of her, earning a tiny “Thank you,” and sits with her own. 

“Katya?” Trixie’s voice shakes a little on the first vowel, and she hates herself for it. Katya just nods, Trixie can see her swallow in the sunlight. 

And then they sit in silence again. Trixie can’t stop her eyes from running across Katya’s face, her jaw her neck her shoulders her breasts how they’re made visible from the strap of her purse her hands on the table. And she’s screaming at herself in her head to stop holding off, but she can’t get her mouth to open. 

Katya looks increasingly nervous by the second, but her eyes never leave Trixie’s face. Trixie wishes she could be more like her, wishes she could sit there melting away on the inside and not have it show. 

But Trixie can see it, can see how her eyes are beginning to squint a little, and she hates it. 

“Katya, I.” Trixie breathes in deep. “I’m so sorry.”

Katya gives her a close-mouthed smile, unclenches her fist to pat Trixie’s hand twice gently. She looks paler, more uncomfortable, and Trixie can hardly read her face anymore. 

“It’s okay. I’m sorry too, Trixie.”

Trixie can’t help the tears that sneak up. But she doesn’t let them past her eyelids, keeps them inside until one pushes through and trails down her face. 

“No. I really am. I really am so sorry. I was so mean, and you didn’t deserve it-” Katya shakes her head but Trixie takes her hand in both of hers. “Katya. You didn’t deserve it, I was just caught off guard and it isn’t true, I know that you don’t think everything can be solved by money. Yeah, you have a lot of it, but you aren’t _like_ that. And I know that. So I really am so sorry.”

Trixie is still holding her hand. She threads her fingers through Katya’s, and Katya looks up at her from where her eyes had migrated to the table. And Trixie realizes that they’re bloodshot, and then she sniffs and Trixie can tell she’s been spending a lot of time crying in the past couple of days. And the guilt washes over her in another wave. 

Katya pulls her shoulders back, squeezes Trixie’s hand. She breathes in and Trixie can hear how her breath shudders low in her throat. Neither of them have touched their coffee, and both of the cups are gently steaming, resting next to each other on the tablecloth. 

“Trixie, it really is okay. I know you didn’t mean it, and I didn’t mean anything that I said either. Well, except for asking you to come live with me. I know I shouldn’t have but I did, because-” she takes a moment to breathe in again, her eyes never once leaving Trixie’s. “Because I love you.”

Trixie’s fingers go slack and she blinks, hearing it face-to-face is off-putting and strange. Katya is so earnest when she says it, and her sleepy abused eyes are wide and serious. Trixie can hardly stamp down the urge to drag her to bed, to just lie with her and fall asleep wrapped around each other, Katya whispering sweet nothings and pet names in her ear. 

But she has to do this heavy lifting, because Katya is in a mood that Trixie can’t pinpoint. It’s like she’s given up, like she’s resigned herself to letting Trixie make all of the decisions for them. The energy is off and Trixie has more leverage than she wants, she can tell that Katya has given up everything she has to prove herself to Trixie. And Trixie has to patch it up, somehow. 

Katya is looking out the window now, at the leaves that cloak the backyard from view. Trixie wants her fingers all over her skin, on her wrinkles and pores and tired shoulders. When she looks away it’s easier for Trixie to think but it’s harder for her to keep motivated to keep the conversation going. Because Trixie could sit at the little table with Katya forever, in the sunshine or in the stuffy winter. And so she brings her hand up to Katya’s cheek, taps it with her finger and gently guides her eyes back to Trixie’s. 

“Katya,” Trixie whispers. Katya nods, and Trixie’s stomach clenches at how her eyes shine. “I love you, you fucking idiot.”

And then Katya’s eyes are widening and her hidden tears are falling but her mouth is opening just a little bit so Trixie can see her teeth. She leans forward in her chair, Trixie can feel her breath on her face. 

“What?” Katya pulls her hands back, wipes her tears away impatiently. “What? Trixie, I thought-” she breathes in again, takes both of Trixie’s hands in hers. Her palms are warm. “I thought you were going to tell me you were done.”

Her lips bump against Trixie’s before Trixie can protest her claim, she’s pulling Trixie to standing and wrapping her arms around her so that they’re pressed up against each other. 

Katya smells like her perfume and very faintly of cigarettes, and Trixie’s heart skips a beat imagining Katya’s mind running so fast that she hasn’t smoked all morning, not even when Trixie’s opened the kitchen window for her and set out the ashtray on the table. 

“Trixie,” Katya chokes it out into her mouth, with her tongue that just barely swipes along her upper lip. Trixie hums back, digs her fingers into Katya’s back. Her arms are aching with how tightly she’s holding Katya and her waist is aching with how tightly Katya is holding her. Katya pulls her face back and looks at her for a second, and then she stuffs her face into Trixie’s shoulder, breathing into her hair. 

Trixie’s eyes are wide open in the curtain of Katya’s gray curls, they smell like her shampoo and they’re a little damp from her morning shower. There’s a loud bouncing noise from Katya’s sunglasses falling to the floor. 

“Come upstairs,” Trixie mumbles and Katya nods against her shoulder, pulls away. 

Katya kisses her all the way up the stairs, on her cheek and on her neck, stalling them on their third ever trek to Trixie’s bedroom. Trixie lets her, lets her slide her fingers in her hair and dig her teeth into her skin, whines for her.

“You love me,” she whispers once she’s on top of Trixie on the sheets, her lips curling around the words. She’s smiling and kissing Trixie on both cheeks, breathing in through her nose. 

They don’t fuck. Katya slides her hand under Trixie’s shirt and lets it rest against her stomach, and Trixie breathes slowly so that it rises and falls with her skin. Katya wraps her legs around Trixie’s thigh, her toes brushing against her calves, and she keeps her lips against Trixie’s cheek.

“Katya,” Trixie says. The country breeze is gusting through the window and it takes Katya’s curls with it, blowing them in Trixie’s eyes.

“Yeah,” Katya kisses her cheek again.

“I really don’t have anywhere to live,” Trixie’s stomach is swirling with nerves. Katya’s eyelashes flutter against her cheekbone and the silence aches.

If Katya’s changed her mind, they’ll get through it. They’ll have to, Trixie will find a shitty apartment in the city and Katya can pick her up for dates in her car, and then maybe, just maybe, in a few years they’ll move in together unless they break up, or something, and then Katya’s hand is coming up to cup her cheek.

“I’m happy to house you,” Katya laughs. Trixie wraps her arms around her waist, kisses her over and over, then just rests her head on her breasts, soft in her linen shirt.

“Baby, baby, baby,” Katya whispers. She runs her fingers through Trixie’s hair, massages her scalp softly, runs fingertips across her ears. “God, I love you.”

Trixie swallows. She doesn’t believe in guilt, but she can’t help but feel it boiling in her stomach at how gently Katya is holding her. She let Katya cry over her, let her lie in bed and text her to no replies, let her get wasted on wine and cry over her, choke out love confessions that she doesn’t remember over voicemail.

“I love you too,” she says into Katya’s chest. And then Katya pulls her hair a little bit and it goes right to her stomach, and Katya smells so good right up against her. Trixie is wet, she realizes, and then she remembers that she’s wearing the best lingerie she could find in her drawers, mourning the loss of Katya’s presents but also unconsciously preparing for Katya to fuck her in their reunion.

Trixie rolls her hips up against Katya’s, and Katya tightens her legs around her, pulls her in closer so that her heels are digging into the backs of her thighs.

“Baby,” Katya says into her hair. She grabs Trixie’s ass hard, pulls so that Trixie’s entire body slides up her own, kisses her with her tongue against her teeth and her nose pressing against Trixie’s.

“I was so bad,” Trixie mumbles. Katya gasps in through her nose, tightens her grip on Trixie’s ass even more so that Trixie groans into her mouth. “Katya.”

“Baby, you were so bad, so mean,” Katya says on her lips. Trixie whines and rocks her hips forward, pulls them back so Katya’s fingers are definitely bruising her ass cheeks through her skirt. 

“Katya,” Trixie breathes. Katya pulls back a little and Trixie’s eyes cross trying to make contact with hers. Her face is so close, warm breath spreading across Trixie’s cheeks, and Trixie is sure that she’s blushing, maybe drooling a little out of the side of her mouth. She’s soaked, straddling Katya’s thigh and pressing hard against it, Katya’s hot skin is practically burning her through her skirt and thong.

“Yeah,” Katya traces a finger between her ass cheeks, agonizingly light over the fabric of her skirt. Trixie’s hips twitch.

“Please spank me.” Trixie’s blush spreads from her nose across her cheeks, her neck is hot and sweaty with embarrassment, and Katya brings her head up to kiss her again, strong fingers still holding her close.

“Hmmm?” Katya’s lips vibrate against hers. Trixie’s blush is still spreading, she can feel her chest blooming red, getting sticky with sweat. There’s a bead of sweat dripping down her forehead but her hands are on Katya’s breasts in her shirt and bra and she doesn’t want to let go to wipe it off. It makes her nose scrunch up, though, and her lips disconnect from Katya’s.

“I want,” she can’t finish it. But Katya’s green eyes are wide open, and she’s smiling gently up at Trixie. It makes warmth spread down her arms, and she stretches her fingers out, digs them into Katya’s breasts harder so that she sniffs in. “I need you to spank me.”

Katya grins, lets go of her ass and gently pushes her off so that she’s lying on her back on the bed, she watches Katya sit up and unbutton her shirt, slapping Trixie’s hands away when they go to her chest to try to help her, make it go faster.

“Don’t touch, just watch me,” Katya says, and Trixie whimpers, wiggles against the sheets. Katya laughs and pulls the shirt from her shoulders. She unhooks her bra, too, lets it fall down her arms and off the side of the bed, pinches her right nipple as she looks down at Trixie, unbuttoning her shorts.

“Katya,” Trixie whines. Katya squints down at her, unzips her shorts and hops off the bed to pull them down, taking her underwear with them. Trixie is still fully clothed and Katya is completely naked, the slopes of her abs and thighs and arms in the daylight are just how Trixie remembered them but somehow even more beautiful. And Katya is naked but Trixie feels naked, Katya is rubbing herself slowly as she climbs back onto the bed on her knees. 

“Baby, you need to be patient, it’s your punishment,” Katya says matter-of-factly. Trixie whines again, and Katya tightens her hands around her ankles, pulls her down from the pillow a little bit. “Turn over.”

Trixie turns over as quickly as she can, turns her head so that she can still crane her neck a little bit to see Katya kneeling at her thighs. She’s run her hands up Trixie’s legs, and she takes a second to bring her fingers along the waist of Trixie’s skirt, where her top is riding up her stomach and she can tickle her bare skin. Trixie laughs unbidden and Katya does, too, and then she’s yanking Trixie’s skirt and thong down past her toes, dropping it on the floor amongst all of her own clothes.

Her hands are on Trixie’s ass before she can push it up into them, and Katya sighs as she squeezes, slides fingers between her cheeks and up to her wetness so she moans. She pushes one finger inside and then her hand connects with Trixie’s cheeks, so fast that Trixie had never seen it coming.

Her finger curls forward at the same time and Trixie cries out, lets her yelp morph into a whine as Katya’s fingers grip her smarting skin for a second, let go to leave her aching.

Katya pumps her finger inside her, and then it’s gone and Trixie is trying to follow it but Katya’s hand lands on her ass again just as she’s pushing back into it, and the combined forces of the both of them pressing together make Trixie whimper. It hurts so bad, Katya’s strong arm and calloused palm hitting her soft skin, but she’s so wet and her arousal is thrumming through her thighs and stomach, making her whine as Katya smacks a kiss where her handprint must be.

“I missed your pretty ass,” Katya says against the skin. Trixie moans into the pillow, shifts her hips so that she’s rubbing against the mattress. Katya spanks her again, as she attempts to gain some friction, and she gasps as Katya bears down and slaps her again and again and again, so hard, over and over until tears leak out of Trixie’s eyes and drip down her cheeks, so that her eyes screw up and she sobs, chokes on her own breaths.

“Katya, please please please,” Trixie cries, pushes her ass back against Katya’s hand. She stops spanking her and Trixie’s ass is numb but she can feel Katya’s arm tight around her waist and her hand somewhere swirling circles across the irritated skin of her ass.

“You’re going to bruise so bad,” Katya whispers, and then two of her fingers are sliding inside her, her thumb gently slipping over her clit. Trixie’s hips twitch and everything is burning, her ass where Katya’s tongue is sliding across her stinging skin and her cheeks where she’s blushing, how her nipples are twisting with her sweat in her bra.

“Oh my god, oh my god, Katya,” Trixie says. Her tongue is swollen, or she’s just feverish, Katya all on top of her and over her, she smells so good and Trixie’s sweat is dripping down her temples. Katya kisses her softly and rubs a quick circle over her clit so her toes curl and she gasps against Katya’s lips.

“Trixie,” Katya says. Her lips are sliding down Trixie’s neck, and her fingers are digging into her g-spot, Trixie’s senses are exploding with light and she’s vibrating from head to toe. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knows that she’s about to come.

“Katya, I’m,” Trixie breathes. Katya rubs her faster, kisses her earlobe.

“Baby, I love you, my sweet, sweet baby,” Katya whispers, chokes into her ear and Trixie comes, the last of her tears sneaking out of her eyes. Katya pulls her fingers out of her, rubs her so gently through all of her aftershocks, turns her over so that she’s on her stomach on top of her naked chest.

Trixie stuffs her head between Katya’s breasts and she can feel her rummaging around in Trixie’s side-table drawers. She hisses against Katya’s sweaty skin and ribs as she gently spreads cool lotion across her ass cheeks, with the gentlest fingers Trixie has ever felt.

Trixie wakes up aching and sticky from tears, sweat, and come still on Katya’s chest. It can’t have been more than twenty minutes but Katya is fast asleep, eyes shut gently and gray curls falling across the pillows.

She looks maybe a little younger in sleep, but not much. She looks pretty young when she’s awake, she’s fit and healthy, bright and energetic. Trixie unsticks herself from her chest and wraps her thigh around her waist, rests her head on the pillow next to her.

It feels weird, watching Katya as she sleeps. Katya is always the first to wake up, the last to fall asleep, she’s always stroking Trixie’s hair until she drifts off. But Trixie likes it, likes how she can see Katya breathe. She wraps an arm across her chest, above her breasts, and twists a curl around her finger.

Katya sniffles and her eyelashes flutter, Trixie pulls on the curl a little bit so that her eyes fly open.

“Morning,” Katya says through a slow grin. “How’s your butt?”

Trixie blushes but she’s aching pleasantly, her left cheek is rubbing against the sheets and it hurts. But it’s the kind of sunburn achey hurt, the kind that Trixie craves to know she’s really enjoying her summer, really soaking up as much sun as she can.

Katya just looks in her eyes, watches her intently, waits for her to respond. But Trixie feels shyer, somehow. Katya loves her and Trixie loves her back, it’s out in the open, and Katya is looking after her teasingly but Trixie can see how concerned she is in actuality.

“Baby?” Katya asks. Her smile falls and she brings a hand up to press her thumb onto Trixie’s bottom lip. Trixie smiles around it and nods.

Katya laughs, her eyes brighten up instantly and Trixie tightens her grip around her. Somehow her shirt has come off and her breasts are hot against Katya’s side, her arm is wrapped around her shoulders.

They’re both sweaty and disgusting and eventually they make their way into the shower. Katya braces her arms under Trixie’s armpits and scrubs shampoo into her curls, kisses her cheeks over and over until she’s laughing so hard Katya has to hold her up so she doesn’t fall on the tile.

And Trixie’s mom is going to be back on the red-eye, but Trixie forgets with Katya’s hands rubbing lotion onto her entire body from her feet to her shoulders. Katya kisses the backs of her calves and tickles the backs of her knees, massages lotion into her limbs and her breasts.

Trixie eats Katya out slowly on the bed, and she moans lowly in her throat, scrapes Trixie’s scalp with her fingernails again and again. After Katya comes Trixie cuddles in next to her and orders pizza for dinner, goes down to get it in a bathrobe while Katya waits for her naked on the couch in Trixie’s room.

Katya holds her arms out when Trixie comes back with the pizza box and Trixie settles in her lap. She leaves the pizza on the table and squishes her nose into Katya’s neck, lets her fingers dig into where her ass is already bruising. 

“Did you miss me?” Trixie asks, and Katya grumbles a laugh that she can feel against her cheek, from her neck.

“I sure did,” Katya says. Trixie settles further into her lap, and Katya leans forward to maneuver a slice of pizza out of the box without Trixie falling from her thighs.

She eats with a hand in Trixie’s hair, leaning back against the couch so that Trixie can nap a little on her chest. Her fingers rest amongst Trixie’s curls and Trixie plays with Katya’s gray ones against the back of the couch.

Trixie is exhausted, and she half sleeps through Katya’s entire dinner. The sunset is turning the room blue when Katya is finished, and then she taps Trixie’s shoulder to get her to make eye contact.

“Mmm, yeah?” Trixie pulls herself awake. Katya’s brows are raised and she’s smiling a little, gesturing to the pizza on the table.

“You should eat,” she says. Trixie groans and shifts her body so that her ass is seated against Katya’s hips. Katya wraps her arms around her stomach, spreads her fingers outwards so that they tickle Trixie’s waist.

Of everything she’s done with Katya, sexual or not, Trixie likes sitting on top of her the most. 

She’s never enjoyed sitting on anyone else’s lap more. Katya is a little bony with hard muscle but Trixie’s ass and thighs are big and soft enough for the two of them to fit comfortably. Katya just ignores her, too, while Trixie is on top of her. She goes about her business with Trixie comfortably settled on her body, talks on the phone with colleagues or checks her bank accounts. And then once she’s done with her important business she’ll have a cigarette, and Trixie will watch her throat flex, and then sometimes Katya will grip her hand and slide it across her hips, thrust up against her fingers once so Trixie will eat her out as she stares off into space or sends long texts.

And it always makes Trixie’s toes tingle, how Katya has her pleasure her when she’s hardly paying attention to her. And now, as Trixie eats her pizza, Katya hums a little into her shoulder, squeezes her nipple through the soft robe so she squeaks with a full mouth, laughs delightedly as Trixie reaches behind herself to wipe greasy fingers across her collarbone.

“Fuck you!” Katya yelps, and Trixie laughs again, kisses her close-mouthed. Katya settles her back against her and Trixie finishes her dinner, and soon enough they’re back in bed, wrapped around each other as usual, Trixie falling asleep first. Katya is chain smoking in what Trixie thinks is probably relief, and she hopes that Katya has a good, heavy sleep with Trixie next to her.

“Katya?”

“Yes?”

“I love you,” Trixie mumbles. Her lips are tired and Katya kisses her nose.

“I love you, too.”

-

“Trixie!”

Trixie is sweaty, her hair is pulled up too tight on top of her head and she suspects that it’s caught on something or tangled in a hair binder.

“Trixie! Are you home?”

The bed shifts and Katya’s hand shakes her shoulder, and then the side of the bed next to her is empty and she opens her eyes. Katya is standing at the end of the bed, pulling on her clothes from the previous day.

“Good, you’re awake. Your mom is home,” Katya whispers. Trixie’s heart drops and she sits up, all the blood rushes to her head as she does, giving her an instant headache.

“Fuck,” she whispers back. Katya nods and pulls her glasses out of her purse on the couch. The pizza box is still sitting on the table and Trixie remembers that she’s left the ashtray in the kitchen. They’re fucked, but the grim look in Katya’s eyes reminds her of how they both knew it was bound to happen at some point.

“Fuck is right.”

Trixie rubs her temples in slow circles. Katya is buttoning up her shirt over her bra, tucking it into her shorts. Trixie allows herself two full seconds to stare at her ass before she gets up, digs through her drawers for clothes.

“Trixie!”

“Yeah, mom, I’ll be there in a second!” Trixie nods at Katya and Katya raises an eyebrow back. “Oh, and mom?”

“Yes, dear, what is it,” Jenny is down the hall, likely unpacking her suitcase in her bedroom. Trixie swallows.

“My girlfriend’s here, too.”

There’s a slam of a door and Trixie locks her own in record speed, and they can hear Jenny right outside the door, trying the handle.

“Sorry, it’s locked! We’ll be down in a few minutes, mom.” Katya is grinning mischievously and Trixie glares at her, tries not to betray her anxiety in the tone of her voice.

“Okay, okay, I’ll give you a few minutes! But I’m so excited to finally meet you, dear, I’ll make some breakfast. Oh! And mimosas,” Jenny runs off again and Trixie sighs out the rest of the nerves that have built up in her shoulders. Katya stifles a laugh and walks over to her, kisses her on the cheek.

“It had to happen at some point, baby,” Katya smiles against her skin. Trixie presses a finger hard into her cheek.

“Yeah, but still,” she says. She can hear her mom running down the stairs and she thanks God for small blessings, they’ll have a few minutes to get a little more decent if her mom plans on making breakfast for them.

“I know.” Katya pulls back. Trixie swallows again, smiles with all that she’s got left. “But, you know, you won’t be trapped here too much longer if she hates it.”

Trixie feels herself rolling her eyes and winces as Katya’s face falls. She takes her hand, runs her fingertip against her knuckles, over her short nails. 

“I’m sorry, I’m not upset. I just, I love her a lot.” Katya nods. She leans in for a swift kiss, almost like she thinks that Trixie will pull back if she moves in slowly. She wouldn’t have, and she wraps her hand around the back of Katya’s warm neck to keep their lips together for a moment longer.

Trixie leads them down the stairs. Katya follows right behind her, and Trixie appreciates that she’s dating a mature woman for once, one that won’t run away from meeting the parents like a few of her past girlfriends have done. Katya’s met her mom before, but it’s hardly any different- it’s actually a whole lot worse, and Trixie doesn’t need a second uncooperative party involved.

“Mom?” 

Jenny has her back to them when they reach the last step. Trixie’s hands are shaking, the way that they did for her final presentation of grad school, and Katya takes one of them in one of her own dry ones. Trixie realizes how much she’s sweating when Katya’s callouses rest against her sweaty palm.

When Jenny spins around she drops the spatula and scrambled eggs fly across the floor, Katya releases Trixie’s hand to walk forward and pick it up, place it back in Jenny’s hand. Trixie is still frozen to the wall, and she knows that her mom’s wide blue eyes are the same as hers, that their shocked faces mirror each other, a little bit.

“Katya?”

“Hey,” Katya says. She’s grinning, and she gives a little wave, pushes her glasses up her nose. Trixie wants to melt and die, but then her mom takes the spatula from Katya’s hand and turns back around, shuts the oven off. 

“Trixie? You said…” Jenny is blinking at top speed, trying to gain traction on the slipperiest slope Trixie has ever experienced. She forces herself to break her silence.

“Yeah, mom. I didn’t lie,” Trixie bites her lip. Katya is standing in between them, hands held in front of her. Trixie wishes that they were still holding hands, a little, but she crosses her arms instead. “Katya’s my girlfriend.”

“I need a fucking drink,” Jenny sighs, turns her back to them again. This time Katya crosses back to Trixie, takes her hand and leads her over to sit at the table. It’s so reminiscent of the first morning that it makes Trixie’s thighs thrum, the only difference being that Katya hasn’t let go of her hand. She’s holding it tightly in hers between their plates on the tablecloth.

Trixie’s ass is smarting so terribly against the wood of the chair and the fabric of her skirt. It’s making her insane, but she knows that her mom will ask questions or at least _know_ something is up with her if she fidgets. She tries to sneak a glance at Katya to express her agony but Katya isn’t watching her, and Trixie tries not to fucking scream.

Jenny joins them with three massive mimosas. She downs half of hers the moment she sits, and Trixie does the same. Katya squints at the both of them before chugging the entire concoction in front of her, and Trixie tries not to laugh at how she sets her glass down gingerly afterwards.

“Give it a minute to kick in,” Jenny says when Katya opens her mouth to speak. “I need to be drunk.”

Katya shuts her mouth so quickly that Trixie can hear her teeth clack. She’s still anxious, but the alcohol is hitting her, now, and she’s mostly trying desperately not to laugh. She’s also squirming, because every time her hips move the bruises all across her ass scrape and ache, and it hurts so fucking good. Katya sneaks her a warning look and squeezes her hand a little to get her to sit still, but Trixie just winks when her mom brings her glass back up to drink the rest.

She can hear the little sigh from Katya’s nose, and she can’t help but smile at her blatant frustration. Trixie knows that Katya loves seeing her squirming, and she’ll squirm all day long if it means that later, hopefully at Katya’s penthouse, Katya will eat her out while digging her fingernails into the bruises that are making Trixie’s spine ache right now.

Katya doesn’t let go of her hand. And Jenny’s abandoned breakfast on the stove, so Trixie is in for a real treat, a real argument that might end in real tears.

But she knows that nothing her mom says is going to change anything between her and Katya, and that she has a home she can go to if she’s kicked out of this one, and that her mom can never stay angry with her for long. She takes a deep breath and finishes her mimosa, tries to settle her own hips in the chair.

“Okay,” Jenny breathes. Katya stops tapping her fingers against the table. Trixie didn’t even know she was doing it until the sound stopped and all of their breaths started becoming a little too loud.

“Okay,” Trixie echoes. She looks to Katya and Katya shrugs, then she looks to her mom and receives another shrug. “Okay, um.”

Trixie keeps looking at the both of them, back and forth until she gets dizzy. She needs some coffee but she can’t imagine leaving Katya and her mom sitting at the table together. So she sits, ass aching, on the uncomfortable wood, waiting for someone to break the silence.

Jenny finally does. She takes a deep breath and Katya’s fingers get sweatier, she opens her mouth and Trixie’s heart squeezes.

“Well,” she sighs. Katya is chewing the inside of her lip. “I suppose there could be worse people.”

Trixie can feel her entire body relax. Katya’s fingers loosen around hers, and then Trixie feels a little drunkenly foolish that she ever worried about her mom’s reaction at all.

“I think so too. Mom, I think that just about everyone else in the _world_ is worse,” Trixie says. She’s laying it on thick, but she’s buzzed and can’t help it. Her mom is too, and nobody is expecting coherent commentary. Katya smiles a little, but Trixie can tell that she’s still on-guard.

“I don’t want to know about any of it,” Jenny slurs a bit. She points right in Trixie’s face almost comically, and Trixie giggles. “I’m serious. Dead.”

Trixie nods, and Katya follows suit. Jenny puts her head in her hands for a few seconds, elbows propped on the table in the dim light of the kitchen. It’s cloudy and Trixie knows that rain is on the forecast for the afternoon, which is stupidly fitting for the events of the day so far.

“Jesus Christ, Trixie. She’s my age! Fuck,” Jenny sighs into her hands. Katya’s shoulders tense up again, and Trixie rolls her eyes.

“Mom.” 

Jenny looks up at Trixie’s firm tone. Katya is painfully silent, so silent that Trixie is willing to bet that she’s holding her breath.

“Nothing you say is going to change this. You know that, right? I’m so sorry,” Trixie can’t help but tack on the apology. Her mom laughs, though, reaches across the table to take her empty hand.

“I know, Bea. It’ll take a lot to get used to, but I know.” Trixie nods. Katya is still perfectly still. “Katya, it’s okay.”

Katya releases her breath at Jenny’s approval, and then Trixie leaves them together at the table to take the champagne from the countertop to the table, dumps the remains of it in their empty glasses.

-

Katya backs her up, nose to nose, to falling onto her bed in the penthouse.

Trixie lets herself fall backwards, lets her hair fly outwards against the sheets. Katya straddles her immediately and pulls on it, yanks her curls outwards from her head so Trixie whines high-pitched and breathy.

“Katya, please,” she groans, and Katya laughs down at her. “Please, my ass hurts so bad.”

It does, Trixie’s ass is rubbing against the softest sheets she’s ever touched and it’s still smarting, despite Katya’s two-time moisturizing sessions of the day before. Katya had let her lie on top of her on her stomach in the car on the way home, saving her ass from sitting too long. The only pressure she’s felt on it since getting wasted with Katya and her mom at 10am has been when Katya would press her fingers down against it so she’d cry out in the backseat.

Katya shifts her hips down, grinds Trixie’s ass harder against the bed. Tears come to her eyes by reflex and Trixie whines again, Katya nuzzles her neck with her pointy nose.

“Baby, you asked for it!” Katya says. Trixie sobs as Katya continues to push down with her hips, as her hands come to the front of Trixie’s shirt to unbutton it as she grinds. “What if I wanted to get off just rubbing myself on you like this?”

Trixie gasps as Katya thrusts down particularly hard and her sensitive ass is pushed against the sheets again. Katya had stripped her lower half down the second they’d come in the door, had dropped all of Trixie’s bags that she’d insisted on carrying up in the middle of the floor and had yanked Trixie’s skirt and underwear down, tapped her ever so lightly on the ass to direct her to the bedroom.

Trixie had gone, even the lightest touch on the bruises made her insides clench and ensured that her arousal would wind up inside her so she could sprawl across the bed on her stomach and prop her hips up, lift her ass so it would be on display when Katya came inside.

But Katya had yelled for her to be standing in front of the bed once she came in, and Trixie had reluctantly taken her fingers from her wetness, stood at attention at the end of the bed.

And now Katya is naked atop her, grinding her wet pussy down on Trixie’s stomach.

“So soft,” Katya whispers into her neck. Trixie hates and absolutely adores how Katya is using her, how her eyes are squeezed shut as she rubs her clit against Trixie’s tummy. Her ass slides across the sheets softly but it hardly feels soft, despite all of the lotion. Katya’s hips are tight, muscled lines against her.

“Katya, please touch me, I wanna come,” Trixie blabbers on. Katya pulls her hair again, and the pain of it mixed with the pain of the bruises sends her eyes crossing. She’s wet all down her inner thighs and Katya finally climbs off of her, pulls her up the bed by the hand.

“Baby you were so brave today, sitting in that hard chair, sticking up for us,” Katya says onto her lips. Trixie moans as Katya’s fingers finally touch her. She dips two inside her, brings them out again, back up to her mouth where she slides them between her lips, sucks on them. “You taste so good.”

Trixie whines. She wants Katya’s fingers in _her_ mouth, loves how they feel against her tongue, but she knows that Katya is teasing her. She doesn’t want to give in just yet.

“God, you’re lovely,” Katya groans as she brings her fingers out of her mouth, back down to slide them inside Trixie. “I need to, fuck.”

Katya slides her body down Trixie’s torso, bumps against her pussy with her nose. She licks slowly up her lips with her tongue flat, teasing, and Trixie can’t stop her hips from canting upwards.

“Nope, be a good girl,” Katya says. She pulls back, waits for Trixie to stop wiggling, and then she finally stuffs her full with two fingers and her tongue. 

Trixie’s eyes roll back into her head and she sobs repeatedly as Katya licks over her clit how she knows she likes, and then as she brings her fingers from Trixie’s pussy back to her asshole, slides them in slow enough that Trixie’s eyes prick with frustrated tears again.

“God, fuck you,” Trixie chokes out, and Katya laughs hard against her. It backfires as her hot breath and vibrating lips make her nerve endings ache, and as she gasps Katya pushes her fingers as far as they’ll go inside her.

Trixie whines, squirms, and then Katya slides two fingers from her other hand up her pussy, rubs down with them and up with the fingers in her ass, so Trixie can feel them rub against each other through her skin, and she yelps with the sheer, overwhelming feeling of it.

Katya keeps rubbing and Trixie’s eyes are blurry, her toes are twitching and her knees are pulling up as Katya runs her tongue over all of her fingers and then fast across her clit, calls her _Baby_ against her soaking, thin skin.

Trixie grips Katya’s gray curls as tightly as she can when she comes harder than she ever has in her entire life. Katya pulls her fingers out once Trixie cries out in pain and she’s laughing, coming up to kiss her sloppily, her crow’s feet are cutting her cheeks in lines and her hair is sticking straight up where Trixie’s fingers have tangled it.

She kisses Trixie hard, wraps her up tight in her expensive sheets, and Trixie watches as she slowly fingers herself to her own orgasm. 

And Trixie sucks her fingers clean at the end of it, just as she had hoped she’d be able to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for a wild ride everyone ;)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katya’s never allowed nicknames to spill out of her lips for a lover like she has for Trixie. She has no filter for Trixie’s hips, for her waist or the backs of her hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what's up
> 
> you wanted it, i'm delivering. katya's pov for everyone out there that wants a peek into her brain!
> 
> please read the UPDATED TAGS, don't say i didn't warn ya. this is wild and maybe a little gross, which is why i love it. also, trixie calls katya "mama" in this, if you aren;t into that i don't care to tag it so here's your warning.

Katya spends the entire car ride with her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

After she quit smoking (for Trixie) she’d needed to find other things to occupy her hands and mouth with. Trixie’s nipples worked well enough for both, but in times without her, like her tri-annual trips to the house in Beverly Hills, Katya has to squeeze a stress ball, or pick at the skin of her thumb.

And she squishes her fingers together all throughout the drive from JFK to home, to Trixie.

Trixie’s decorated the penthouse.

Katya never really thought that it was as barren as Trixie had seen it. She only saw the stacks upon stacks of books in her office, the piles of papers on the coffee table and her collection of souvenirs from traveling in college on the shelves.

Trixie had seen the bigger, more glaring absences. Like the sparse furniture (Katya lived alone, no need for armchairs or side tables) and the boring color scheme. Katya had been a little spooked at Trixie’s criticisms of the place, especially the criticism that it wasn’t as colorful as it should be. Katya had had massive, bright tapestries hung on her walls when she was young, and she doesn’t want to try and pinpoint where she became so boring. And so old.

But she likes how Trixie had dragged her along shopping in the best little antique stores she could find. They have a fat, creaky armchair, upholstered in florals, facing the window. Trixie’s bought pretty lamps that shed soft light in the evenings, warm patterned blankets that she wraps around the both of them when it’s cold out.

She counts down the streets to home, she knows that Trixie is sitting in the living room waiting for her. 

She’s horny, too, but that’s immaterial. She’s mostly missed Trixie’s face, her smiles and her teasing laughter. She’s grounding, beautiful and smart, she has endless advice and she smells familiar and wonderful. Katya’s never had the words to describe her, and she certainly couldn’t find them now. But she loves Trixie, more than she’s loved anyone in her entire life, and she misses her from two blocks away.

Trixie is tight in her arms the moment that the elevator doors slide open. Katya staggers forward, pushes her gently to back up into the living room. She spins them a little, head in Trixie’s hair, sits so that Trixie falls onto her lap.

“Sweet baby,” Katya whispers in her ear. Anton is bringing her bags inside, and she lets him settle them next to the kitchen table as she digs her fingers into Trixie’s soft hips, listens to her breathing. “God.”

“I missed you, mama,” Trixie says. Katya’s stomach twists hot, she spreads her fingers outwards to touch the top of Trixie’s ass. Katya is shorter than her, skinnier than her, and she loves Trixie on her lap big and soft. 

Trixie calls her _mama_ and makes her feel like a ‘50s dominatrix, payrolling her princess with a fat cigar between her lips. Trixie calls her _mama_ as she winks at her, if they’re eating out with friends and Trixie wants to make a scene.

Trixie knows how she loves it, and it kills her.

Katya will always let her make a scene, no matter where they are. She’ll let Trixie sit on her lap in the park, she’ll let Trixie feed her grapes on a picnic blanket with her hand gripping her foot. She loves to see Trixie in her element, bratty and haughty, especially if she’s doing it to get a reaction from Katya.

Katya loves to make her blush, too. With a hand on her back or a whisper in her ear, she loves watching red seep through her cheeks.

Katya imagines that Trixie thinks _she’s_ weak for Katya, whipped for her. But Katya knows that it’s the other way ‘round, that she’ll always want to stuff Trixie’s pretty mouth with her fingers. The sassier she is, the more Katya wants. Katya will always want to buy Trixie pretty earrings and lingerie, dress her up so she can lie on the bed moisturized and dewey, breasts spilling out of her bra, begging Katya to eat her out. 

She’s blown a lot of money on Trixie. It hasn’t been enough to even hint at making a dent in what she’s got, but it’s more than she’s ever spent on herself in two years, more than she’s ever even considered spending on a girlfriend before. 

There’s nothing she likes more than the way Trixie flushes when Katya spends money on her, especially cash. Katya’s taken hundreds of thousands out of the bank in cash, just for how Trixie’s hips shift at the sight of stacked bills. Katya could watch her get shy over getting properly spoiled all day, with her hard nipples peeking through her top and her hand tugging at her hair. 

Trixie bought her fancy cigars for her last birthday, seduced her into starting off forty-seven puffing on one with her sweet woman lazing over her lap completely naked, kissing all up her legs in her nylons and tearing them apart under her skirt with her nails, eating her out as the smoke gave both of them dull headaches. 

Trixie kisses her neck, the suction behind her lips hot. Katya shivers, squeezes her tighter. 

“I missed you too.” Trixie curls into her like the princess she is, tiny toes on Katya’s thigh and long fingers tugging on her hair. 

“I want you to fuck me in a minute,” Trixie whispers under her ear. Katya squeezes her ass cheeks and slaps them both just a little, so Trixie squeaks. 

“Sure thing, baby,” Katya says. Anton waves to her from the door and she begrudgingly lifts a hand to wave back. “Thank you.”

Trixie burrows further into her. She’s so responsive, so much so that all Katya needs to do half the time is slide a thumb across her lips for her to whine and cant her wide hips up. It makes Katya insane, and she thanks her poker face profusely every single day, since she knows how much Trixie loves it when she looks disinterested. 

Once the door is shut, Katya pulls Trixie’s head back from her neck by the hair. Trixie moans the instant Katya’s fingers tug on her soft blonde curls, and Katya smirks down at her pretty face. 

“God, I missed you,” Katya sighs, kisses her sloppily. Trixie loves her kisses soaking wet, heavy and focused, and Katya knows that she delivers every single time. Trixie is whimpering little sighs out of her nose that might have been too quiet to hear over the A/C, except that Katya knows them well enough to look for them. 

Trixie moves her thighs to straddle Katya, and Katya lets her. Trixie loves when Katya takes the lead, but she’s always climbing all over Katya, tickling her abs and squishing her hips, giggling before opening her lips across Katya’s pubes. 

Trixie hums into her mouth, starts to unbutton her shirt. She stuffs her hands into her bra greedily, pinches her nipples so she hisses, presses her hips against Katya’s stomach. Trixie releases her nipples and Katya grunts, snaps the elastic of the waist of her skirt against her soft stomach. Trixie’s breath hitches and she breaks the kiss to swallow, and Katya takes the interruption to bring her hands up to Trixie’s face. 

“I love you,” Katya whispers. Trixie smiles, her eyes crinkle with her tiny wrinkles that match Katya’s, just a little, and her freckles disappear under her blush. 

“I love you too.” Trixie kisses her nose. Katya laughs, brings her hands down to her breasts. Trixie pushes her hands away, and Katya rests them on her stomach as Trixie pulls her shirt off, unhooks her bra so that her big titties fall out of it. Katya catches them as they spill out, grips her nipples and twists so Trixie gasps and pushes her chest forward. 

Katya is horny for Trixie telling her she loves her. She’s way too old for that, she’s in a committed relationship and she doesn’t necessarily think that their love for each other needs to be a big, bright thing. She’s happy with it being quiet. But although she does consider herself too old for dramatic teenage romance, she’s also old _enough_ to know that she’s somehow found herself in something close to that. 

Trixie is everything she’s ever looked for in a woman, even if she’d never known that she was looking for her. Katya happened upon her woman in a kitchen at forty-five, and she’s pretty damn lucky that she did. 

So she doesn’t allow herself to feel silly at how her stomach swoops and her biceps turn to ice when Trixie moans those three words. 

Katya brings her head down between them, kisses her chest right above where her cleavage starts. She groans against her warm skin and scrapes it with her teeth a little, Trixie whimpering into her hair. 

They’re both going slow, unspokenly. Katya wants to take her time and she can tell that Trixie does too, she wants to remember every inch of Trixie’s soft chest and every freckle on the tops of her breasts. 

It’s hot, stinky summer, and Katya doesn’t need to worry about teaching a class with visible hickeys. She used to eagerly sign herself up to be available for summer classes, happy to have something to do for the four months out of the year that always filled her with lazy boredom. But now she couldn’t imagine it, not with Trixie on her lap and kissing her mouth. 

Trixie takes less hours in the summer and Katya meets her at her building when she’s off, kisses her on the cheek as she shuts and locks her office door. Trixie whispers _hey, mama_ , and Katya takes her hand, they walk side-by-side to go to lunch or get dinner. 

Trixie tugs on her hair, right at her temples, and Katya groans, pulls back from where she’s been sucking at Trixie’s chest. 

“I said I wanted you to fuck me,” Trixie says. She looks the part, her hair is tangled and thrown to one side, her lips are swollen and wet. Katya kisses them again, slowly so Trixie can take the time to pull her shirt off of her shoulders and take her bra with it. 

Trixie’s breasts are massive against her own, and Katya uses them as an unlikely pillow more often than not. They’re soft and wonderful, and Katya loves to run her tongue along their stretch marks as Trixie takes deep breaths, tries to stay still. 

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” Katya mumbles. She gently lifts Trixie off of her, stands and holds out her hand. Trixie shakes her head and Katya almost scolds her before she digs her fingers into the waist of Katya’s shorts, pops the button and slides them down her legs, her boring underwear with them. 

Katya hums as the cool air hits her skin, and Trixie kisses her stomach right below her belly button. She stands and pulls her skirt down, her thong with it. Katya mourns the loss of tight straps to snap once they get to the bed. 

Katya’s never allowed nicknames to spill out of her lips for a lover like she has for Trixie. She has no filter for Trixie’s hips, for her waist or the backs of her hands. Trixie drives her crazy, and she is unquestionably Katya’s sweetheart, her sweet, sweet baby. And Trixie loves it, loves Katya calling her baby in public. Katya is almost certain that Trixie thinks that she calls her baby because it gets her hot, that she’s trying to make Trixie wiggle in her seat at all times. But she isn’t, that’s just the added bonus to not being able to shut her big mouth when Trixie’s around.

Sometimes Trixie calls her honey, between her breasts or when she calls to her across the penthouse. And it makes Katya wrap her arms right around her, as tight as she can so that she releases all of her tension, just props herself up against Katya’s body.

They tumble into the bed, Trixie crawling up to the pillows with her ass stuck out, just so Katya will drool over it. Katya can smell how wet she is already, and she props her hands on Trixie’s calves, clenches her fingers so Trixie yelps.

“What do you want?” Katya asks. She’ll be damned if she doesn’t ask, she can usually figure out what Trixie wants in a matter of seconds based on how much she’s wiggling her ass for a spanking, but today she wants to hear what she wants out of her big mouth, wants Trixie to tell her in detail how she wants Katya to fuck her.

“Katya,” Trixie whines on the last vowel. Katya rolls her eyes, grips her legs harder.

Trixie whimpers as Katya rolls her eyes, shifts her ass across the sheets. Katya grins, heat blossoms up her hips and in her stomach. She’s wet, but Trixie is wetter, Katya can hear it as she wiggles around on the sheets. 

“Baby, I ask you everytime and everytime you’re too shy to tell me,” Katya croons. Trixie was blushing before but she’s really blushing now, grabbing the pillow behind her with both hands. “I just want to get you off.”

Trixie’s foot twitches and Katya laughs. Her breasts are blossoming with red from Katya’s bites on the couch, and her blush is creeping down her chest.

She’s spring-pale, where her freckles darken before her skin does with the sun, and Katya can’t wait to trace her tanlines and sunburns with her teeth.

“What do you want,” Katya whispers onto her stomach. Trixie shivers. She kisses her belly button chastely and brings her lips back up to kiss her. “Oh.”

Trixie nods into the kiss and Katya slides two fingers inside her slowly. Trixie sighs as she does, she’s so tight around them that Katya’s vision blurs for a second. She’s soaked, and Katya keeps their lips connected as she slides them in-and-out, curls upwards so Trixie gasps. 

Trixie’s hands are on her back, sliding over her muscles and bones as they shift. Her hair is flowing across the pillows, and she sighs into Katya’s face, breathes in gasps. 

“I love you,” Trixie sighs. Katya’s stomach twirls and she pinches Trixie’s nipple so she cries out, a pretty, achey weep. Katya lets her hips slowly ride across her fingers, listens to her wetness without commenting on it for once. And it’s nice, how Trixie lies against the pillows underneath her, just softly. 

She’s hardly ever this careless, she’s hardly ever this negatively vigilant when they’re in bed. Trixie is always trying to get Katya to touch her and pinch her and sit on her face, and the way Trixie is lying back having her finger her is new. 

She’s still kissing Katya’s cheeks sweetly, where Katya knows that she’s blushing a little. She kisses the wrinkles of Katya’s inner eyes, kisses the lines on her forehead and licks across her crow’s feet. Trixie’s stomach is sweaty and Katya swipes it up with her fingers, pulls back from Trixie’s face to suck it off her fingers. Trixie’s eyes roll back into her head and Katya sucks on her fingers for a little more, getting them wet as Trixie throws her head back and closes her eyes. 

“Open your eyes, baby.” Katya brings her soaking fingers down, shifts on the bed and presses them against Trixie’s asshole. Trixie gasps, sobs echoing a little through the penthouse. 

“Katya, Katya, Katya,” she babbles. Katya grins, laughs as Trixie pouts with how she hasn’t pushed her fingers inside yet. 

Trixie likes being stuffed full, likes to take two fingers so that it hurts bad at first. Katya knows this, but she doesn’t know if Trixie wants it now, with how she’s looking down at Katya all lusty, her eyes half-lidded and her lips bitten. 

“Two?” Katya breathes. Trixie blushes harder, blinks twice and nods, lips spreading into a little smile. Katya grins, kisses her stomach. “Hold your knees up.”

Trixie hooks her hands under her knees and pulls her thighs apart so that she’s wide open for Katya. She does it lazily, like she’s done it hundreds of times before, but Katya knows how it gets her sweaty. She likes how Katya looks at her pussy, and Katya likes to look at it all pink and wet. She’s pretty, puffy and horny, and Katya presses a kiss right over her clit so she twitches up and bumps Katya’s chin. 

Katya pushes both fingers inside. Trixie whines a long _Oh!_ and her mouth hangs open as Katya pushes them in far enough for her to really feel them, glides her tongue over her wetness. 

“Mama… you’ve gotta fuck me,” Trixie whines. Katya kisses her again, kisses her over and over all across her neatly-trimmed pubes, her inner thighs where she knows that it’ll tickle, and Trixie’s legs shake where she’s holding them up in the air.

“I’m going to look at you first,” Katya says. Trixie sobs as Katya’s fingers pull out a little and then push back inside, Katya knows that it must burn bad, must ache all up her spine. 

“Katya,” Trixie says. It’s choked off, and Katya presses her cheek against her inner thigh, looks up at her with her eyebrows raised. The soft skin of her thigh is burning hot, and her muscles are trembling beneath the skin. “Please.”

She whines it out pathetically, and Katya laughs on her skin. “God, you’re sweet.”

Katya starts pumping in and out slowly as she stares Trixie’s pussy down. She’s flushed and shiny with wetness, the sweetest pussy Katya’s ever seen. Trixie is so filthy, she’s so wonderfully naughty, and Katya gets to fuck her all day long. She _begs_ for Katya to fuck her all day long, wants Katya to take her time and make her cry. 

Katya is dripping down her own thighs. Trixie moans so loud when she’s being fucked in both holes, sometimes she thrashes her head back and forth against the pillows. Katya’s let herself fuck Trixie almost clinically in the past, just so that she could really _watch_ her, really focus on her responses without Katya thinking about her own pleasure.

And Katya had learned how Trixie likes to be fucked so hard that she can hardly keep up with her breaths, that she likes to be stretched out so she burns in both her ass and her pussy, that her big breasts bounce and _hurt_ as they bounce when Katya’s fucking her hard with four fingers, two hands, and Trixie is thrusting back down or pulling back up, shoving herself back and forth chasing what Katya will give her.

But Katya isn’t just fucking her to watch her today. She’s fucking her and clamping her legs around one of Trixie’s, rubbing her own wetness against Trixie’s bare skin to cut the aching edge off of her pleasure a little. 

Katya brings her lips up, open around Trixie’s nipple, her skin so warm underneath them. Katya is the hot one, she makes them both sweat in sleep with how much heat she gives off. But Trixie is always warm, too, a little cool in the evenings when she gets home from work. Her breasts are always warm, and just as Trixie lets out a sighing whine (Katya can feel her fingers pruning up inside her) she bites down fast on her nipple, so that she yelps.

She doesn’t let go, and she can feel how Trixie’s squirming beneath her stills a little once Katya’s teeth dull her nerve endings and she stops feeling them. Katya stays clamped on, sucks around her teeth and lathes with her tongue, so Trixie’s ass wiggles and Katya’s fingers push deeper inside her, curl sharply towards herself so Trixie cries out again.

Trixie’s sweat is dripping into Katya’s mouth, salt on her tongue, it’s sour and delicious. Katya likes all of her fucking bodily functions, likes her in the shower with Katya washing her pussy with warm water just to lick her discharge from her wet fingers.

She’s done it before, and she’ll do it again. It makes Trixie’s eyes go so dark.

“Mama,” Trixie whines. Katya opens her teeth on the second syllable, and Trixie breaks into a sob. Then she’s clenching so hard, her ass and her pussy, around Katya’s fingers, and her foot comes up to thump her heel against Katya’s back. “I’m coming!”

Katya laughs, fucks her through it. She babbles little _I love you_ ’s, whimpers and pulls on Katya’s hair. Katya slides her fingers out when Trixie screams and grips her waist, kisses her.

Trixie kisses her back with her mouth wide open, panting. She’s real out of it, Katya can tell. Plus, she knows when she’s fucked Trixie so good that she’ll need a few minutes to recover, to be able to open her eyes again. Right now they’re squeezed shut, and Katya kisses both of her flushed cheeks, kisses her face all over. Her chin, her wrinkled eyelids, her jawline. 

“You’re such a good girl,” Katya sighs across her freckles. Trixie whimpers slightly, loosens her grip on Katya’s hair. Katya lowers herself next to Trixie’s soft body, wraps a leg around her thigh, wraps her pruny fingers tickling around her waist. 

Trixie sleeps a little. Katya lets her, listens to her little snores. She gets herself off lazily, two fingers sliding across her clit, lips kissing Trixie’s soft shoulder.

Trixie wakes up with the moan she doesn’t bother to stifle as she comes, sniffles a little and wraps her body around Katya’s. 

“Mmmmm baby,” Katya groans. Trixie slips her fingers inside her for a few seconds so she grunts, pulls them out to bring them to her mouth, sucks on them and hums around them. If Katya wasn’t so exhausted from an early morning flight and so ready to order pizza and sleep on the couch, she would twist her fingers around Trixie’s wrists and pull her down the bed, have her eat her out properly.

But instead she kisses her around the fingers, pulls them out so that they migrate to holding one of Katya’s breasts gently. Trixie kisses her slowly, Katya shuts her eyes to really feel her tongue, remember it after two weeks of missing it acutely.

She lets Trixie kiss her and kiss her, and she kisses Trixie right back, on her inner eyebrows and on her nose. She’s like a present, so human and beautiful.

“Shower.” Katya commands, and Trixie laughs up against her cheek. She gets up first, Katya can see where she’s bitten her breasts and stomach, holds out her hand for Katya to take.

Katya gets up, her hip pops and Trixie grins but doesn’t say a word for how Katya glares at her performatively. She leads Katya to the bright bathroom, turns the lights immediately to the mood lighting, dim and warm.

Katya had the shower done with the idea of being able to spread herself out, walk back and forth inside it. She had never assumed that she’d fall in love and have a woman move in with her for good, but she’s happy that the shower fits them both without a single issue, that the gray tile reflects tiny images of Trixie’s body. 

Katya washes her up, sucks her wetness off of her clit and rinses her with water, so that she’s whining with her head resting on the tile behind her. She yanks on Katya’s wet hair and it hurts, it’s sharp and tangled pain on her scalp. 

“Baby, no.” Trixie’s fingers detach from her strands and her fingers trail to her ears, yanks on them instead as she laughs, until Katya runs her tongue fast, repeatedly over her clit, so that she yells and comes again, hips rocking up on Katya’s face.

Trixie washes Katya’s hair, slowly and gently. Her hands are warm and deft, scrubbing and twisting conditioner between her curls. She whispers for Katya to close her eyes before she leads her under the water, rinses all of it out even slower.

Katya scrubs airplane and car and sex off of her body as Trixie watches, washing herself slowly. She likes to see Katya’s body under the water, likes it in the morning after she’s come back from the gym, likes it in the evenings when she’s stretching on the living room floor after hours of standing and lecturing.

Katya likes how her pain and physical existence pleases Trixie. She likes how Trixie will fill a little plastic tub with steaming hot water and bubble bath soap, settle it on the floor on a towel in front of the old new armchair, tell Katya sternly to soak her aching feet in it.

They somehow make it to the couch in faded NYU t-shirts, Trixie in pink underwear and Katya in blue boxers. Katya pulls Trixie over to lie on her lap, puts her head down between her thighs and picks up her phone from where she’d left it on the coffee table, calls for pizza as she runs fingers through her hair.

“So, what did I miss?” Katya asks once she’s hung up. Trixie smiles and Katya pinches her cheek.

“Nothing. Nothing happened, I was bored, Naomi tried to get me to pick up more shifts but I can’t be bothered. We’re understaffed,” Trixie sighs. Katya smirks a little in satisfaction.

She doesn’t want Trixie thinking that she’s sponsoring her every move, her every breath. But that’s only because _Trixie_ doesn’t like feeling that way. If Katya could have it her way, Trixie would keep her savings account dormant, waiting for nothing, or Katya would even pump it full with her own funds. And then Katya would pay for her every moment of existence, her every move. She’d pay for her lunches and for her packs of gum from the vending machine in the office. 

So Katya gets a thrill every time that Trixie hints at not needing to work any more than she wants to, because she knows that it’s all made possible by her. She doesn’t want Trixie to want for anything, doesn’t want her to worry about money ever again. She wants Trixie to have a job she loves but only as much as she wants that, and she wants Trixie home with her as much as she wants to be.

The pizza comes as fast as it can with the pizza place being just down the street, and Katya takes it from the delivery man, pays and brings it to the couch where Trixie’s sitting up, waiting with plates. They eat in silence for a few minutes, Katya’s hand resting on the curve of Trixie’s foot. Katya always gets a good thrill out of Trixie eating a nice meal, always feels a deep satisfaction knowing that she’s healthy and well-fed. 

“Baby.” 

Trixie looks up from the remote control, mutes the TV. Katya has a piece of pizza in her hand, and Trixie looks nice in the dim light, drying hair falling down her back. Katya doesn’t want her to be cold.

“Yeah?” Katya pats the couch next to her and Trixie smiles, scoots closer so that their hips are touching, so that Katya can wrap an arm around her soft waist again. Trixie digs her heels into Katya’s thigh, climbs up on her lap so that Katya grunts as all of the air is pushed out of her stomach in one thump.

Trixie is two orgasms towards exhaustion, and she’s turned the TV back on to a low hum, starts nodding off almost immediately. Katya sighs and squeezes her hips.

“I’m going to fall asleep,” Katya whispers. Trixie hums, pats her cheek and climbs off begrudgingly, walks to the bedroom. Katya follows and they fall on the sheets. Trixie pulls the blankets over them and Katya falls asleep almost immediately, Trixie’s hand cool on her stomach.

-

Katya’s had the tickets for a while, bought them on a whim while surfing the NPR website. She’s seen enough ballet in Russia in her twenties, high off her ass, to be interested in it for a lifetime, and she’d always thought it would be nice to take Trixie along sometime. But only with the purpose of causing a minor scene there.

Katya’s at the point in her life where she loves to make a little scene. She’s old enough for people to write it off as the kookiness of an old lady, and she’s young enough to be self-aware about it. She knows that Trixie likes it too, and that’s the absolute best part of it all.

She loves making a Big Deal over Trixie in public, and since Trixie loves the embarrassment they’re both winning each and every time. 

Katya has the tickets out on the table in the morning, and Trixie laughs at them over her coffee, confirms that yes, she would love to attend. Katya kisses her cheek and jingles her car keys, gestures to the door with a mouthful of toast and a hidden agenda that’s not so hidden, after all.

Trixie’s gotten used to Katya taking her shopping, and there’s nothing sexier about the whole experience for Katya than Trixie’s disinterest and acceptance of the entire process. She thumbs through racks of expensive dresses like a pro, picks the ones she likes and allows the shop assistant to zip her up as Katya watches from a chair in the dressing room. 

She spins around so that Katya can see her from all angles, and they settle on a baby blue floor-length gown with a slit up her left leg. Katya tries on a black dress that she may already have a version of, but orders it anyways. 

It’s cloudy when they leave the store and the dresses to be tailored behind. They climb in the car and Katya directs them to a coffee shop, where Trixie types away on her laptop and Katya reads the nearest book on the shelf. They spend three hours there quietly, drinking coffee until Katya just about bursts, until she gets a text from the store saying that the dresses are ready.

Katya sends a prayer to the heavens for just minor alterations, and Trixie insists that they walk the five blocks to pick the dresses up. Katya sighs and agrees, takes Trixie’s hand in hers so that they don’t get separated in the Saturday tourist crowd.

-

“Box seats?” Trixie whispers. The attendant leads them up the carpeted staircase, chandeliers reflecting fractionated light on her face in the dim yellow light. Katya nods, squeezes her hand. Trixie laughs a little as the attendant fumbles with the door, and Katya’s stomach swoops upwards.

She’s painted blush on her bare, fresh skin, and her thick eyelashes are swiped with mascara. Katya wants to ruin her, her light pink lipgloss on her big lips, wants to fuck her long and hard on the box seat chairs that have been sitting in red velvet for upwards of a hundred years. They definitely won’t have been the first people to do something nasty up in the hidden almost-rafters of the theater.

They chat a little as they wait, whisper giddily in the dark. It’s so quiet in the box, the curtains around them muffle all of the sound so that Trixie’s whispers sound much closer to her ear than they actually are. It gives Katya goosebumps, and it makes her grip Trixie’s arm on the armrest.

Katya can’t stop bringing her hand up to her mouth to kiss it. Trixie makes her nuts, she wants to shower her in kisses half the time and fuck her to all hell the other half, make her whine and sob over how hard it is. 

When the ballet starts, she’s already halfway there. 

Katya’s horny. And she usually is, when Trixie is around, but when they’re in public sometimes she can’t stop herself from wiggling her fingers on the top of Trixie’s ass or stuffing her nose into her neck just to smell her. 

Trixie can tell and Katya can feel her squirming. Katya’s on her left side, and her hand is hanging over the armrest, her fingertips just barely tickling Trixie’s bare thigh underneath. 

“Mama,” Trixie whispers, hot breath in her ear. Katya drops her hand down immediately, grips her thigh as tightly as she can, and Trixie’s body jerks backwards, her head knocks against Katya’s skull. Katya keeps squeezing, Trixie’s breathing getting heavier and heavier in her ears. 

And then the lights are up for intermission, and Trixie is staring at her wide-eyed, pupils blown to fuck.

“Shit,” Katya whispers. “Can’t exactly touch you while all the lights are on, can I?”

Trixie whimpers, rests a hand on Katya’s, still gripping her thigh. She’s going to have visible marks on her pale skin when they leave, seen through the slit in her dress.

She sits there, takes it until Katya decides to pull her hand away. Trixie whines at the loss of contact, and Katya shushes her so that she cuts it off low in her throat. 

Katya watches her the rest of the fifteen minute intermission. She allows herself to stare, how her dress lets her just peek at her cleavage, how her feet are twisted in her heels. Katya takes a few seconds to rearrange her bangs for her, swipes them to the sides since they’re a little off-center from her full-body twitch when Katya grabbed her thigh.

“Katya,” she whispers, and Katya nods, still staring at her. She can’t stop staring, needs to drink her in before the lights go down, needs to watch her body move in that dress before she fucks her good underneath it, maybe stuffing her mouth full of fingers so that she keeps quiet. “I think it’s so beautiful.”

Katya grins, bites her bottom lip to stop herself from kissing her hard.

“I think so too. I’m glad you like it, baby.” Trixie drops her head on Katya’s shoulder and it stays there until the lights go back down and she resituates to watch.

Katya waits, body thrumming, until a good ten minutes in. And then her hand is on Trixie’s damp thong, fingers hard against her clit where it’s hidden by her lips, and Trixie is gasping loudly before Katya’s other hand is clamped over her mouth to stop it.

Once Trixie’s lips close underneath her fingers she drops the hand over her mouth, slowly trails her hand up to the lace band of the thong to sneak it beneath. She can feel Trixie’s stomach heaving under her palm, irregular and fast.

Once Katya’s fingers make a connection with her wetness, Trixie whines. Katya lifts her hand to her mouth again, slides one finger inside so that her tongue curls around it immediately.

“Shut up,” Katya whispers. Trixie’s head falls back against the seat, Katya can see in the light of the stage how her eyes roll back at the command. She slides a finger inside of her and Trixie inches forward on the chair so that Katya has better access. 

She stays so quiet, so good, for a long time. Her thighs are squirming as Katya’s fingers circle her clit, and her hands are clamped around the armrests. She lets out a tiny whine as Katya slides a second finger alongside the first, and Katya freezes. Trixie sniffs and tries to bear down on them. 

“You need to shut the fuck up, or put your fingers in your mouth,” Katya breathes in her ear. Trixie swallows and unclenches her fingers from the seat, stuffs her own mouth full of three of them. God, she’s so good, when Katya asks her to be good for her she tries so hard. Katya is squirming in her own seat.

Katya tries her hardest to minimize the sloppy noises that are coming from her fingers in Trixie’s pussy, but she’s just so wet and the whole theater is just so quiet. Deathly quiet, but for the faint music that’s coming from the pit. Katya is almost certain that the box next to them is getting two shows at once, they can probably see the outlines of their heads and how Trixie is stuffing herself with her own fingers to shut up.

“Good, baby,” Katya can’t help but encourage her. Trixie swallows again, and Katya’s stomach heats with a sharp sting of pleasure at how quiet she’s being for her. 

And then Trixie is pulling her fingers out of her mouth, blinking repeatedly, twisting her fingers around Katya’s wrist. Katya pulls her fingers out, pushes Trixie’s hair out of her eyes. 

“I’ve gotta pee,” she whispers. Her pupils are still wide, Katya is close enough to her face that she can see her pores and where her mascara is clumping in high-definition. It’s making her eyes dry, her contacts are starting to irritate her. Katya can see how she’s shifted down the seat in discomfort and scolds herself for not seeing sooner. 

But she knows that Trixie waited.

“You should wait, it’s almost done.” Katya puts her hand on her stomach under her dress. She’s still breathing heavily and Katya presses down with her fingers a little. “You can’t have to go that bad.”

Trixie bites her bottom lip pornographically, and Katya presses down harder. Trixie shakes her head and Katya swallows her laugh at how Trixie is already breaking out in a sweat. 

“I’ve had to go since it started,” she breathes. Katya wants to reward her for being so quiet even though Katya can tell that she’s in extreme distress. “I really gotta go.”

Katya rolls her eyes, stands slowly and holds out her hand for Trixie to take. 

“Get your bag, there’s only ten minutes left,” Katya’s seen this show enough times to know that they won’t make it back in time. 

Katya guides her into a stall in the deserted women’s bathroom with the big cut-glass chandelier hanging above the mirrors. Katya locks the stall door behind them, spins back around where Trixie is about to sit on the toilet and pulls her up to standing. 

“Katya--” Trixie chokes. Katya shakes her head, pulls her hard against her so that her bare ass is rubbing against Katya’s hips. Trixie whines, grinds back. “Katya, I’ve gotta go.”

Her voice is so low, it goes right to Katya’s stomach. She’s hardly wiggling and Katya pulls her dress up higher under her bra, holds it there and sits her down on the toilet, facing the back wall. 

Trixie whimpers and Katya slides her hand down to right above her bladder, presses hard with the heel of her palm. She bunches Trixie’s dress against her stomach and brings her other hand around to rub at her clit, and Trixie yelps the instant her fingers make contact with it. Her stomach is fluttering and she’s moaning consistently, her hair smells so beautiful and Katya is just drowning in it. 

“Come on, go,” Katya whispers. If anyone else is in the bathroom Katya hardly cares, they can get over it just as quickly as Katya knows she can make Trixie come the second she pees. 

She’s rubbing Trixie’s clit just how she knows she likes and Trixie is panting, Katya kisses her cheek and presses down with her palm as hard as she dares, and then Trixie yells out and her thighs try to clench around the toilet, she’s coming and peeing and her mouth is trying desperately to connect with Katya’s. 

Katya kisses her slowly, works her through her orgasm with soaking fingers, then holds her up when she’s twitching and breathing deeply to regain her balance. 

Katya still has a hand on her stomach, the tiny soft hairs there tickling her fingers. Trixie is all dolled up for the ballet, and Katya is holding her up on the toilet as she comes down from her orgasm, and Katya can hardly believe for a full minute just how lucky she is. 

The show will be ending in a few minutes and they need to get out of the stall, so Katya helps Trixie up and wipes her down, pulls her thong up snug around her hips again. Trixie laughs the entire time and Katya can’t help but laugh with her-- she’s so good. Good as in a good girl just for Katya, but also good as in how she lets psych students come to her office and cry over their missing credits, good as in driving to her mom’s house once a week purely to see that little dog. 

And good as in standing at the gorgeous bathroom mirror fixing her lipgloss, ass sticking out so Katya can check her out. 

She’s too beautiful, too young, and Katya’s loved her for so long that it gives her whiplash, sometimes, how wild it is for her to fuck her so hard and then be on her knees the next minute promising her the sun, moon, stars, and eternity. It’s so fucking cheesy, and Katya can’t help herself from pulling Trixie closer and pressing a big red kiss to her cheek as they stand at the mirror, so Trixie gasps and splashes her with water. 

They leave, run through the halls before the show can end, breathless with laughter. Katya grips Trixie’s arm and stands tight against her once they get outside to wait for the car. It’s hot summer and Katya is already sweating from the humidity, but she stays wrapped around Trixie anyways for how it makes her laugh. 

“You’re eating me out in the car,” Katya says, and Trixie nods, smiles at her. 

“You bet.” Katya laughs and Trixie does it, squishes herself between the seats and sucks at Katya’s clit like she was made to do it. 

She whispers _I love you_ right up inside her, and Katya comes with her eyes blurring at the lights of the city out the tinted windows.


End file.
